


No Culture

by mentalismmaria



Series: ncverse [1]
Category: Pocket Monsters | Pokemon - All Media Types
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blood and Gore, Child Death, Death, Disabled Character, Drama, Emotional/Psychological Abuse, F/M, I promise!, Injury, Interspecies Romance, Medical Trauma, Mental Health Issues, Physical Abuse, Psychic Bond, Romance, Rough story with a happy ending, Sexual Content, Trauma, Violence, i pretty much cut all the canon up and put it back together wrong for my amusement, messy interpersonal relationships, psychic abilities and various ways to abuse them, really really canon divergent, sapient pokemon rights (or lack thereof), somewhat gritty 'humans suck' universe
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-23
Updated: 2020-02-24
Packaged: 2020-03-09 23:20:35
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 21
Words: 98,894
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18927043
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mentalismmaria/pseuds/mentalismmaria
Summary: Char worked with Giovanni before; she evolved a fine Alakazam for him, but now he's holding her debts over her head for another psy-type to be broken in for him. This one's something else entirely; and with the way this assignment is going, she's starting to feel like the monster here.[illustrations included]





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is set in a universe where pokemon may or may not have been made to inherit the earth. Humanity may or may not have been sent to subjugate them. Mew may or may not be a god. People in places of power have done a great job of covering these kinds of details up. Pokemon are constantly changing, the goalposts of sapience are always in flux, and the modern superpower of the League struggles to keep humanity on the top of the food chain. Pokemon were meant to be trained, right? It's just... always been like this, right?
> 
> more art, oc nonsense and more at my pkmn blog: https://victoryroadburnout.tumblr.com/

“You owe somebody a favor.”

The conspicuously shady-looking man slapped something down on the table, hand obscuring it. The woman at the counter blinked blearily at it, as if it snapped her out of some sleepy, early morning lull. The hand lifted to reveal a business card with an all too familiar red _‘R’_. the clerk looked particularly unimpressed.

“Sir, this is a center; it’s illegal to solicit here.” She replied in a flat, bored tone, and pushed the card back towards him.

The man watched incredulously as she turned away from him.

“You racked up a lot of debt, Char. You should be lucky he just sent a reminder.”

“Yeah, well, your boss knows I work for minimum wage now.” Char reached for a cane close at hand before leaving her post at the counter. It was a slow day for an already barren League Center, so playing the part of a Joy wasn’t always necessary.

“Did you really think it was a good idea to take out another loan, then?”

She pulled back her jacket over one shoulder. A fresh-looking outline for a tattoo coiled around her forearm in the unmistakable form of a Gyarados. “I had to bury another of my old team a a few weeks back, can’t a girl mourn in peace?”

The man looked genuinely surprised for a moment, breaking the character of a shifty thug. “Damn, Big C? Really?”

Char nodded grimly. “It was prions, apparently. Ate right into her brain. So, that’s where the money went. Since you had to go and press the issue.”

There was a quiet moment of understanding between the two. The man frowned, and ran a thumb over a ball at his belt, almost protectively. “Fuck, man. I remember watching you two on TV. My condolences.”

“Yeah. I get that a lot.” The mourning trainer smiled bittersweetly, sighed, and collected herself.

Looking her visitor over, she could see the unsubtle markers for the sort of people he ran with. They really just couldn’t bear to wear something without an _R_ emblazoned on it; those proud and insufferable Rocket types. They hadn’t left her alone for years, and he was right; she was lucky his boss would just send her the occasional, cryptic reminder of a debt to be repaid.

Char leaned on her cane, shifting some weight off a knee that was starting to protest after a long day. “Alright, no need to act the intimidating debt collector or anything. I can make another payment at the end of the month, but I’m spread pretty thin. Cremation costs, and all. Turns out its fuckin’ expensive to give a forty-foot sea monster a proper funeral.”

“Again, uh, sorry about Big C; I know she was one of your best,” The Rocket grunt sounded sheepish from having to face the somber news. “This time it’s not money, though.”

He flipped the business card over to reveal a phone number. Char recognized the region code well enough. Her expression turned grim.

“Call him as soon as you can. He’s calling in the _‘big favor’_.”

Char took the card from him at last. A sour feeling was pooling in her gut at the prospect of what uncomfortable exchange was to come.

“So I finally get to find out what that favor _is_ , huh?”

* * *

 

The video call screen flickered from the shoddy reception, but the squared-off, clean cut features of the man were unmistakable. He put on his best fake, slimy smile on for her as she popped up on his feed.

“Charlotte! It’s been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Giovanni.”

Giovanni’s smile turned thin and sly, looking into the tired eyes on the other side of the screen. “I heard about your Gyarados; that’s a shame. That’s... how many of your old team so far?”

“...Four,” Char mumbled. She didn’t want to admit it to herself, let alone to him.

“My _condolences_ ,” Giovanni said, with no indication of the sympathy Char saw from other trainers plenty of times. She wasn’t surprised; He wasn’t a man she expected to feel things like sympathy, or love. He was still smiling. “I hope this doesn’t mean I’m catching you at a bad time.”

On Char’s side of the country, she was in the center’s empty hostel area, using the archaic vidphone meant for trainers calling home. The battery was giving out, so she had to employ the old trainer resourcefulness; which was, of course, a handy electric pokemon. The Manectric that lounged next to the console gave it a small jolt whenever she woke him up from his nap. The electricity-conducting canid yawned, and the video got a little clearer for it.

Char opened up a water bottle picked up from the rations closet. “I thought I might as well nip this one in the bud before you start sending your guys in with bats. I thought the Kadabra was your big _‘favor’_ , actually.”

Giovanni waved her off. “No, no, the Kadabra was more of a… test, of sorts. Not that you haven’t trained a fine assistant for me, of course. No, this one is much… bigger. It’s a psychic, yes, but these circumstances are quite different.”

Char shrugged. “Well, send it over then. I got the code for the transfer line ready-”

“It’s not going to be that simple.” Giovanni clapped his hands together. The fake pleasantness of his smile was spreading increasingly thin. “The asset is out of our hands at the moment. There was a… well, let’s just call it an _incident_ and leave it at that. You’re going to have to collect it for us.”

As vague as that was, Char could understand the gist of what he wasn’t admitting over a old public line.

“Ah. One of _those,_ huh?”

Giovanni gave her another cold and predatory smirk. The only kind of smile in his arsenal that was genuine.

“Oh, you have _no idea_.”

* * *

 

Hours later and miles away, dawn was breaking over Cerulean City. A League-sanctioned regional bus was slightly late to arrive at its stop outside the local center. A small group of young League trainers on the benches groaned in relief, and began to sleepily gather their belongings as similarly ragged passengers filed out. Char was among the last of them, being more careful with navigating the few steps off the bus. She grunted as her bad leg made that last, low step onto the pavement, sending a shock of pain running from her knee and up her thigh.

She vaguely heard someone call her name as she hobbled over to the benches. They’d have to wait. Another obvious Rocket agent, with their black uniform and low-tilted hat, approached her.

“Jessop?”

Char grunted in response, unslung the duffle bag from her shoulder, and popped her leg off. A shin-length prosthetic, shoe and all, was pulled out of her limp pant leg. She rubbed the knot of scar tissue below her knee soothingly. It was little relief, but it was better than nothing.

“Gimmie a sec,” she mumbled, breathlessly, and began searching the depths of her bag. The grunt crossed their arms impatiently.

“We have the rest of the extraction team at the site, waiting for you. Are you going to be long? The asset could esc-”

“I _said_ , gimmie a _second_ ,” Char spat back at them, her digging hand becoming more frantic before reaching the familiar shape and sound of a pill bottle. She made sure to deliberately draw out her moment of respite; taking out one of her pills and swallowing it dry, stretching and groaning from all the parts of her that ached. The grunt standing over her made a pointedly annoyed sigh.

The breeze picked up over the city’s canals. More and more people were walking down the street; going about with the own lives, barely paying so much as a confused glance towards the leg on the bench. Char continued to take her sweet time, whether her Rocket chaperone liked it or not.

“Alright,” she said, finally, “what the hell’s going on over here?”

The grunt fumbled with a small tablet. “We’ve got the asset cornered in the cave system not far outside the city. It tried to slow us down by causing a collapse, so we’ve got people outside ready to handle it once it emerges.”

They showed her a simple map of a cave system on the screen. A large chunk of it was crudely circled in red. “Its trapped in there otherwise, and it knows it.”

Char shimmied her pant leg up her thigh in order to slip her leg back on. “Sounds like you’ve got this under control, actually. What do you need me for?”

“Nico,” the grunt admitted hesitantly, and reached to a pokeball at their belt uncertainly. Char perked up immediately.

“Boss transferred him over to me. He wants you two to teleport into the uncollapsed part of the cave and launch an ambush.”

Char leaned over and snatched the ball out of their hand before they could even maximize it. The grunt laughed nervously, and took a small step backwards. “Better you handle him than any of us. He kinda gives us the creeps, y’know?”

The grunt flinched as Char wordlessly opened the ball, and the air pressure around them immediately changed.

A humanoid pokemon slowly rose to their full height as their body reconstituted, standing a full foot taller than the Rocket grunt that didn’t hide their unease. They were an enormous example of an Alakazam; impressive and rare enough that passer-bys on the street rubbernecked to get a glimpse of the released pokemon.

The Alakazam began to smooth down his long, mustache-like whiskers and flip them over his shoulders. The stern expression of his vaguely vulpine face softened when he recognized the trainer tucking the empty ball away.

 _“Long time no see, Charlotte.”_ The psychic voice of the pokemon was deep and resonating in her head. It filled a void, in a way. It felt like something that was missing was at least, temporarily, given back within her.

“Hope they’re treating you all right, Nicodemus.” Char smiled up at him. His long ears flicked forward in quiet acknowledgment.

The grunt squared their shoulders before the pokemon, and tried to put on a brave face. “Ah, sorry we had to put you in a ball again, Nico. No hard feelings, right?”

Nico casually flicked his fingers at the air in front of him. An unseen force knocked the hat off the grunt’s head, and provided a nice distraction for them.

 _“It would have been nice if any of them cared to release me when they said they would,”_ He sounded halfheartedly offended, but there was an undercurrent of genuine discomfort Char could pick up as well. It was sobering, as a trainer, to hear the opinions some pokemon had about being in pokeballs. But, they couldn’t deal with that for now.

Char got up on slightly more certain legs, bag over her shoulder and cane in hand. “Alright, let’s get this over with.”

 

An unmarked van took them the rest of the way, turning off of the main road at a billboard advertising cave tours a few miles away on their left. In the back of the vehicle, the Alakazam hunched over in his seat uncomfortably, and ignored the occasional nervous glances of other Rocket members joining them. Char was comfortable with leaning against him, appreciating a familiar warmth and comfort that went beyond the bodyheat of another person.

“I hope you haven’t been terrorizing these poor mooks.”

 _“I haven’t done anything on purpose…_ **_recently_ ** _,”_ Nico’s voice rumbled pleasantly in her mind, _“they’re more scared that I outrank them, than anything. I would be the leader of this operation, if I was a human.”_

“Oh, is that why you suggested me for this? And here I thought you missed me.”

Nico’s shaggy, gangly arm draped over her shoulders in response. _“I did miss you, you know.”_

At the 2-mile marker of an even more enthusiastic billboard about Cerulean Cave, a noticeably high-end black car was very poorly hidden behind it. Several bodyguards surrounded a tall and broad-shouldered man, who personally flagged the van down with the desperate energy of someone who just missed their bus. Ah… Char recognized that underlying whine to the tone of his commanding voice.

Giovanni was decidedly out of his element in the northern Kanto boonies, still in his expensive Kalosian suit and getting mud over his polished loafers. The back doors to the van were flung open for him to properly complain.

“Finally! The damn thing took out the radio signals. This is the closest we could get and still get reception. Nico! Can you still get in from here?”

The Alakazam quickly slipped his arm away from Char, returning to a more professional posture. _“Of course, but there’s a lot of risk involved in teleporting to a place I’ve never been to. And with a human in tow, no less.”_

“Do we look like we have time to argue the semantics?” Giovanni pinched his brow in frustration. Sweat on his forehead was starting cause a noticeable sheen in the sun.

Feebly, Char held up a finger. “Would it be a bad time to ask what the hell I’m supposed to be doing?”

“ _You,_ ” Giovanni focused his glare on the trainer, and she could feel the holes it bore into her. “Are going to slip in with Nico and take the fucker out. You’ve got experience with this class of psychic, surely you know how to handle it.”

“I hardly know what _they_ are,”

 _“Nothing much weirder than me,”_ Nico’s thoughts were laced with contempt just barely felt in Char’s mind.

Char just gritted her teeth, and went along with it. Nothing like being a pawn in someone else’s game. At least the pay would be good, but that’s about all a man like Giovanni could offer his subordinates.

Paper maps were unfolded on the hood of the black car. Location was pinpointed to the slightest degree; leading to some incomprehensible math formula scribbled down by Nico, trying painstakingly to ensure a safe teleportation. Such a power was usually by his species to find home again, calling back to familiarity and knowing the safest place to pop in. Giovanni was getting increasingly short with everyone as the process took up precious time; he didn’t know nor care exactly how easily this could backfire. Char, for one, just wanted the rest of her limbs to stay outside of any solid objects. She didn’t care to be teleported, flown, or be subject to any other act of physical psychic manipulation. It came with too much risk.

 _“We have a 80% chance of an unobstructed entry point here,”_ Nico pointed to a wide section of cave, _“barring any unexpected issues. It’s not perfect, but I’m sure we don’t have a few years for me to go over every possible outcome.”_

“Great.” Giovanni gestured to one of his men to open up the trunk of his car. A black suitcase was handed over. There was an air of carefulness in how he handled it, as though the contents were fragile. Or expensive.

“Either you’re going to be chasing it out, or you’re going to be capturing it. We have no idea how well it can resist ultra balls, so I’ve arranged a special acquisition for this very sort of scenario.”

The locks on the case were popped off, and a single, large pokeball was revealed, nestled in a protective bed of velvet. It was almost twice the size of a regular ball, with a glossy finish and an ‘M’ labeled above the release button. He nudged the case towards Char, prompting her to take it.

“Silph Co. has had this in the works for a few years. They call it the Master Ball; and they say it’s powerful enough to import and hold legendary monsters. I don’t want to take any chances; you’re going to be using it on our friend in there, one way or another.”

The ball felt heavier in Char’s hand than she was used to. The minimized mode was like a weighty ball bearing in her palm. “You really think that thing in there is a _legendary?_ ”

Giovanni smiled confidently. Coldly. “I can say with confidence, that this is the first legendary pokemon made by man. Made by _me_.”

* * *

 

The nauseating feeling that came from being psychically lifted never really went away for Char, after so many years. Teleportation was even worse; she only experienced it a couple times in her life, and for good reason.

The temperature around her changed so dramatically, it made her feel like she was breaking a fever. It didn’t help the sudden, intense feeling of vertigo that overcame her. It seemed being blinked in and out of existence wasn’t something humans were meant to do. All she could do was hold on tightly to Nico, and hope she’ll have all her bits in their intended places by the time she could open her eyes again. Nico was sympathetic; you had to be, when you could feel someone’s discomfort intimately through a shared bond. After gently floating down from a few feet in the air, He allowed her a moment’s rest more than Giovanni would have given her.

Carefully, Char was walked over to a sloping boulder she could limply drape herself over. Her head was beyond spinning at this point; her entire concept of direction temporarily blacking out as her brain struggled to process what had happened. The sounds of bats and dripping water slowly began to replace the static in her ears. Nico’s face was the first thing she could barely make out in the low light, his dark and intelligent eyes trained on her with some sense of concern.

 _“Sorry,”_ His mental voice was but a whisper. With an unsteady hand, Char reached out to pet the length of his muzzle.

“When we get out of here, lets just dig our way through, alright?”

Flashlights were turned on. Nico began to mentally scan their surroundings, ears drawn back from the mounting tension in the air. Char could feel it too; something hummed with energy, deep in the back of the caverns. The slightest notion of a presence hit that sweet spot in the back of her mind; someone knew they were here already. They were just biding their time.

“Do you think they’re going to bolt, or fight?” Char wondered aloud as they delved deeper, keeping her voice to a nearly inaudible whisper. Practically mouthing the words. Nico could glean what she said from her head well enough.

 _“It didn’t put up much of a fight before,”_ Nico’s disappointment sunk into his companion’s mind, _“even when I tried to stop it directly. Coward. I could have taken it on.”_

“By yourself? You’re a mad science experiment yourself, Nico, but you’re not as great solo as you think you are.”

 _“From what I’ve seen, this asset is hardly the specimen they were hoping to gain.”_ Nico snarled quietly to himself, contempt seething through his telepathy. Char cracked a grin left unseen in the dark.

“You’re jealous.”

_“Of course I am; I’m being replaced.”_

“In that case,” Char ventured, “maybe we can get Giovanni to transfer you over to me. You’ll be better off for it.”

For a moment, Nico was silent. Contemplating, as Char could divulge from the ear flicking and whisker grooming he idly indulged in.

_“...I would, if you were still a trainer. I don’t want to spend the rest of my life volunteering in backwater centers. Or whatever it is you do these days.”_

“Well, a trainer never stops being a trainer. I’ve just had enough excitement in my life, thanks.”

Nico smoothed out and rearranged his proud mustache once again. _“This is where Team Rocket appeals to me. I can be certain that I’ll never have to retire in obscurity or soul-crushing boredom under them. No red tape from the League telling me what I am or am not.”_

Char sighed; the most noise she made in a while. “Honey… you’re _still_ just a pokemon to them. They’ll never treat you like an equal.”

_“The pet to a king is still above everyone below his master. Giovanni is crime royalty, and I reap the benefits. Even when I’m confined to a ball.”_

The pressure of whatever force lay ahead was a subtle note of unease that compounded with the tension that rose between the two. Char still felt ill from the teleportation. Nico wasn’t helping. A knot of anxiety was beginning to pulse coldly in her gut.

“I thought you wanted to be with me?” She barely whispered that; but it was loud enough that the sound of her voice echoed softly off the cavern walls and made her flinch. Nico froze, though his attention was more focused on the darkness in front of them.

_“Quiet. Its moving deeper into the caves.”_

Char regained her composure at a moment’s notice, trainer’s instincts kicking back in. this was a hunt, after all. “How far away?”

Nico squinted with concentration. _“It’s trying to misdirect me. Keeps trying to kick me out of its head. It’s just making it easier for me, really; its fear means we must be getting close.”_

The two good fingers on Char’s dominant hand twitched with the urge to grab a ball. The idea of setting her team on this thing wasn’t ideal, though. Not when she lost Clover so recently….

Ahead of them, a piece of stalactite was knocked to the ground. A few Zubat were roused from their slumber, and flew off in the opposite direction. Nico perked up in its direction, and like a hunting hound, gave chase.

There was little else Char could do except try to keep her flashlight trained on the Alakazam and follow him. He took to the air effortlessly; whiskers streaming behind him as he fluidly weaved between calcium formations and dodged angry bats. His comfort with flight was matched only by his quarry.

Char glimpsed it in the corners of the flashlight’s beam; some white blur that hugged the ceiling and wall, occasionally breaking off pieces of the stalactites to fling in their pursuer’s direction. They half-flew, half-scrambled to get away from him, desperate and frightened like an animal, and led them deeper into the caverns.

Between the sounds of scuffling and rocks breaking, Char could hear running water in the background become louder as they approached. The near-blackness of the cave gave way to meager light from luminescent, cave dwelling fungi, slowly giving everything an eerie, bluish hue. The outline of their quarry could be seen with more clarity; some slinky, long-tailed thing. Smaller than Nico but bigger than Char. the fungi around them grew more numerous, as the sound of water grew louder in turn.

The source was a spring, its gentle flow of water into a small underground lake echoing off the cave walls. The bioluminescence of the common fungus bathed the room in a false moonlight, enough to better define the two pokemon that disturbed the relative peace. Nico, able to see his mark, went in for an attack.

The other pokemon made no sound as a psychic force smashed them against the wall closest to them, sending them rolling across it as they scrabbled against the rock. A few of the stalactites closest to Nico fell, and only missed him by inches. All they were accomplishing was making the ceiling more unstable.

Char missed the parts of her team no longer with her the most, in situations like this. But, what good was a trainer who didn’t show resourcefulness with who they had on hand? More bits of the ceiling became ammo in the battle raging above her, splashing into the lake below. A possible solution formed in her head.

She readied a worn, familiar pokeball, and concentrated on reaching Nico’s mind. Digging into that familiar spot. Hoping it was him that was listening. Her message was simple enough to be sent easily.

_“Get it into the water.”_

Nico paused in mid air, grabbed the air above him, and pulled. A large chunk of the cavern ceiling collapsed, taking the fleeing pokemon with it. A heavy splash following further thrashing in the once-still waters. Char acted fast.

 _“Jup’!”_ She tossed the ball towards the edge of the water, and a four-legged flash of light began to blink back into existence. The old and bristly Manectric shook its stiff mane sleepily, before Char’s command caught its attention.

_“Thundershock!”_

Their response was immediate, the reaction time impeccable from years of working with her. They arched their back, and sent a white arc of crackling lightning into the lake. The pokemon stunned into the water wasn’t fast enough to take flight before the current reached them.

The light emanating from the attack briefly lit the cave up, vibrant enough that the mushrooms momentarily dimmed in reflex. The white creature thrashed, mouth open in a silent scream, and a wail of psychic presence hammered pain into Char’s head.

Then silence. Stillness. The pokemon floated face down in the water.

 _“ **Dammit, Charlotte!** ” _Nico growled into her head. He lifted their mark telekinetically with ease; their limp form dangled in the air like a wet rag, to be draped onto the shore. The Manectric whined, understanding what it did, and briefly gave Char a forlorn look before she had to return them.

“Well, it got the job done, didn’t it?” She snapped back. Nico sat on his haunches to observe the unconscious pokemon, a hand on its neck to look for a pulse. Char squinted in the dim light, and found nothing about it remotely recognizable.

“...What the everlivin’ fuck _is_ that thing?”

It was mammalian, bipedal, vaguely feline. Or perhaps canine? It was unclear, and Char could tell that getting a closer look would only confuse her on that more. Its scrawny chest heaved for a few painful-sounding coughs and wheezes, and water was spat up, dribbling down its front. The creature stirred; physically and mentally. The weak signal of its mind etched a pathetic note of fear and encroaching despair into Char’s head. Its eyes opened, and the first thing their vision focused on was Char’s mangled hand on the Master Ball.

 _“Please,”_ they begged. _“Don’t make me go back._ **_Please_ ** _-”_

Char averted her eyes, as to not make eye contact with the creature. “Sorry hon, but we all got our masters to serve.”

She pressed the release button for the first time. The resulting flash dimmed the natural light around them.


	2. Chapter 2

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW: sexual content, medical awfulness]

 

The first thing Char did when reaching her room was pop another painkiller, three separate prescriptions, and yank her leg off in record time. The second thing she did was scream into Nico’s head.

_ “What in the name of Arceus have you Rocket sons of bitches gotten me into  _ **_this_ ** _ time!?”  _

Her beratement was silent and mental, as to not rouse suspicion. Nico sat on the bed and combed his whiskers out, watching her face contort into a snarl, expressing words unspoken. Humans were funny like that sometimes, putting their all into the shapes their face makes.

_ “Well, he wasn’t lying, was he? It’s a man-made legendary. Well,  _ **_recreated_ ** _ legendary. But, let’s not get into the details.” _

Char laid back on the bed, both exhausted and riled up all to hell by the last few hours. It was a lot of information to take in, and none of it sounded good for any of them. Most of all, not for the pokemon she was hired to collect.

_ “Couldn’t even catch the real thing, so makes a copy, huh? Wouldn’t put it past him.” _

Nico shrugged, nonchalant.  _ “Being cloned has its own advantages.” _

With some difficulty, Char sat upright on the bed. Her many scars and old injuries protested after a long day. A long night. A long life. “I’m not going to lie hon, this is kind of where my flexible morals have their limits.”

_ “Well then, bring some results. Get it to behave. You have a knack for this sort of thing, after all.” _

Char narrowed her eyes at the Alakazam, who seemed far too comfortable with his role in all this. 

_ “Y’know, funny how quickly you’ve taken to calling every pokemon that isn’t you an  _ **_‘it’_ ** _.” _

Nico’s ears flicked back, though he didn’t attempt to make eye contact. The room and their minds were silent, for an uncomfortable moment. Silent enough that it spurred Char to put her leg back on, despite the soreness.

“I gotta… gotta tell Jupiter he didn’t kill a man today.”

* * *

 

‘Outside’, for whatever private bunker Giovanni shipped her to, was rural enough it almost felt comfortable. Armed guards patrolled the chain-link fence, a few rough and mean-looking houndour at their heels. The dogs eyed Char with even more suspicion than the humans as she made her way into the woods beyond.

It wasn’t a terribly impressive forest. None of that old growth size, like back in Hoenn. Just some trees and brush for a quarter mile or so before you hit paved road. Char briefly wondered if any trainers on the route ever wandered up to this conspicuous place, and paid the price for trespassing.

Away enough from the oppressive presence of Giovanni’s goons, and enough in nature that she felt somewhat in her element again, Char halfheartedly threw a pokeball.

The Manectric whined as it reconstituted, and barked pointedly at her. Admonishing her, in his own language. Gritting through the pain, Char got down on one knee, digging her cane into the ground to support herself.

“I know baby,  _ I know _ ,” She mumbled in a soft voice not reserved for humans. The Manectric’s fur crackled, making the hair on the back of Char’s neck stand on end, but she continued to be patient.

“It’s alright Jup’, okay? Look at me,” she got his attention and initiated eye contact, “it’s alright. You didn’t do anything bad, understand?  _ He’s fine _ , You didn’t hurt him.”

There was intelligence in the electric dog’s eyes, subtle but present. Enough to bring a pang of guilt in the pit of Char’s stomach. Jupiter closed in to give her face a few licks, and a couple of inadvertent shocks to boot. Even if she could feel her already unruly hair react poorly to the static charge, she nuzzled into her companion’s neck.

“I’m sorry I made you do it again. I told you I’d stop.”

* * *

 

Nico quickly saved his work and put his laptop away, once he felt Char’s somber presence reach his innate field of psychic perception. This time, he was ready. Char was hobbling by the time she reached her room, tired and sore as the dickens. It had been a hell of a day. She was met with the tawny head of an Alakazam bent down in a plaintive bow.

_ “If it’s any consolation,” _ Nico carefully addressed her,  _ “I do indeed deeply miss you.” _

Char felt a tug in her chest in response, and sighed wearily.

“Yeah, well… guess we’ll be seeing more of each other for now, at least.”

_ “You still have my ball in your possession,”  _ Nico pointed out, not terribly subtly.  _ “Until he requests its return, you  _ **_do_ ** _ technically own me.” _

“Oh, I _ own  _ you now, do I?” Char scoffed. The amount of irony in these moments between them was not lost on her. Nico had a strange sense of humor, and she likely inadvertently encouraged it. 

Reaching up to grab the underside of his muzzle, Char bent the taller pokemon down to her eye level. Their faces inches away from each other, she hooked a thumb into the side of Nico’s mouth. His breath hitched as he put up a token amount of resistance, encouraging her to wrench it open. Hot, heavy breath puffed in Char’s face. She ran a finger over the points of his teeth, and smiled coyly.

“Well, I guess that means you’ll be staying in my room tonight, eh?”

 

Human interaction could never measure up to the depth of psychic connection. Char had come to terms with that. She saw it as an attained enlightenment of sorts; rather than a mark of being broken.

Char had known humans, and she was hurt by almost every one of them. But pokemon? Well… one pokemon hurt her, once. That was in the past. The past didn’t matter. The future didn’t matter. All she wanted was that emptiness in the back of her mind filled. That space cut out of her.

Nico was considerate of her issue. In a way, it’s what brought them together in the first place. He could feel the parts of her mind carefully combed and compartmentalized. The bits of her life and personality she tried to piece back together in the wake of trauma. The effects of therapy, medication, and patience would never be able to truly fix the deep, insidious mark her first encounter with psychic power left on her.

But that was in the past, and the past didn’t matter here. All that mattered to Nico was less the mental part of their connection, and more the physical aspect. Finding a compromise between trying to give pleasure and trying not to incite pain. Char writhed under him, eyes glazed, mouth agape; humans really were such an outwardly expressive species. There was no capacity for conversation in any meaningful sense. She only had to keep thinking a mantra that encouraged him to drive deeper into her.  _ Don’t stop, don’t stop, don’t stop. _

Char couldn’t keep up the excuse that she only wanted the mental connection from Nico out of their relationship, for long. He could tell she desired the inhuman parts of him; just as he couldn’t deny that he developed an appetite for human women in the time spent with her. It was a union controversial at best, and illegal at worst. Of course, with these things, the taboo made it feel all the more passionate.

In the end, they ended up filthier than when they climbed out of the cave, but the re-establishment of their connection was satisfying. Not just carnally. Char didn’t realize how much she really missed this. How long had it been, a couple years? Things didn’t seem so different, this time around. The familiarity of Nico’s mental and physical presence was making her feel better already.

“I  _ guess _ I can deal with the job if it means getting to do this on the reg’ again.” Char mumbled, an exhausted smile still on her sweat-streaked face. Nico’s leathery thumb wiped the damp hair from her forehead. 

_ “Is that all it takes? I guess I should let Giovanni know you aren’t interested in the payment.” _

Char batted his hand away, with all the effort of a sleepy persian.

* * *

 

There had to have been five consecutive vault doors between the rest of the bunker and the holding cell. A duo of armed guards flanked Char, who’s cane clicked against sterile linoleum as a sharp accompaniment to the footsteps in their grim march. She noted the amount of security invested in this. Large, thick doors better suited to banks. Cameras with their line of sight covering every available inch of ground. Guards at every threshold passed. This would all be useless in containing a psychic pokemon. All it needed was a safe place to teleport to.

Char felt the secondary, more necessary security measure in her head. A sudden pressure as though her head was being squeezed, then a release as she entered the laboratory proper. Anti-psy fields;  _ now  _ they were getting somewhere. They entered into what seemed to be a medical examination room. A quartet of Rocket scientists were obvious in their labcoats and open flaunting of the Rocket insignia; and, as Char observed, identical metal circlets. One of them was tall, blonde, and noticeably young. His face lit up with recognition as he saw the trainer.

“Ah, Charlotte, right? Or is it, uh, ‘Char’,” the scientist stammered through pronouncing a soft C uncertainly, and held out a hand to shake.

“It’s Char. As in burnt.” Char corrected flatly, and grasped the offered hand briefly. The man’s cheeks flushed with embarrassment.

“Right! Sorry. I’m Dr. Bright, and, uh, thank you again for your help yesterday; it was a terrible accident, of course. Absolutely out of line for our people. It won’t happen again, I can assure you.”

Char looked around the room as she waited for him to stumble over his words. An operating table was the obvious centerpiece, endowed with metal restraints and an unpleasant-looking helmet-like device on one end. Several of the labcoats were still cleaning it, and the surrounding area. X-rays of the creature were on display, most notably showing scans of their brain, and an abnormality near the neck she wasn’t close enough to make out.

Char’s eyes followed a scientist carrying off a biohazard bag, whose transparent plastic showed an unpleasant amount of red staining inside. “You wanna tell me what’s going on here, exactly?”

“Oh,” Bright gave a fake, nervous laugh, trying to wave off whatever gruesome work they were involved in. “We’re just cleaning up after getting the asset out of surgery. We were already planning on installing the psy-inhibitor in our initial gameplan, but, well. After the escape attempt at the old lab, Giovanni ordered us to make it so the asset wouldn’t... be able to remove it.”

Stepping closer to the x-rays, Char blanched. She was no doctor, but she could definitely tell where a metal plate had been fastened to the pokemon’s head. No… fastened wasn’t the word, wasn’t it.

_ “You stapled it into his fucking skull.” _

“It was a necessary precaution,” Bright half-heartedly explained, “Ms. Char, he  _ decimated  _ our old research lab. He nearly caused a volcanic eruption all the way on Cinnabar Island!  _ People died _ . He’s extremely unstable in this state, and until he can be trained to work with humans, he’s too dangerous to be allowed to use his full potential.”

Char winced, imagining what the device looked like. How it must have felt. Bright smiled proudly, like he was presenting the cure for a disease.

“Of course, now that the device is in place and all psychic signals are being blocked, he can move around freely and interact with others with minimal harm! No extreme restraint precautions are needed anymore. At least for now.”

Char continued to stare at the x-rays; her expression hardened but unreadable to the scientist hovering around her. 

“If what I saw in the cave was his full potential, I think you might be overcompensating a bit.”

“Well, that  _ was  _ after nearly a week of manhunts. Just nonstop keeping pressure on him, wearing him down. He has no experience with the outside world, of course; so it wasn’t long before the elements and uh, hunger got him into a weak enough state. You’re very lucky you didn’t have to confront him at his full power, actually!”

He watched her sigh, hang her head, and turn back to him with a unpleasant glower. Her tone was clear and commanding, befitting of a trainer who would be assigned to this task in the first place.

“Well come on, let’s see him.”

 

“Now, he might be a bit groggy from the anesthesia, but the uh, nature of the operation required he only get a minimum dose. Don’t worry, though! It was a quick job, He’ll heal just fine.”

Char bit back the urge to tell him to shut up; she needed this information, as unpleasant as it was. The room beyond the med bay was a small, narrow sort of observation room; with the most prominent feature being a sizable window, looking into the sterile white holding cell.

It was a depressing setup. Just a cot in one corner, a divided section holding a toilet and shower stall in the other. Nothing else, save for the bright, overhead lighting ensuring nothing goes unnoticed. The ‘asset’, this… clone, unable to hide from his captors, simply laid on his bare-minimum bed with his back to the observation window, curled into the fetal position. As expected, his head was bandaged around a strange protrusion from the back of the skull, which connected between his shoulders.

There was a large console of various controls in the observation room, alongside a security camera trained on the cell at all times. Bright plopped himself in the rickety little desk chair provided, and flipped a microphone out of its slot.

“... Mewtwo? You have a visitor.”

The pokemon only quietly lifted his head, glanced over his shoulder, and went back to ignoring the eyes watching him.

Bright sighed. “Well, I warned him at least. If you wanna go in there, it’s your call.”

Char was already popping the pokeballs out of her belt. “What’s he gonna fuckin’ do? It’s not like you gave him any way to defend himself.”

Her three remaining pokemon, their balls older, more worn models, were placed in the scientist’s hand. The man looked like he was holding a live bomb with her team in his palm. “You sure you wanna- ?”

“Yeah. Trust me.” Char propped her cane up against the wall, and headed towards the door.

The locks, five in number, were manually opened. There was a tangible feeling of a change in air pressure, and another squeezing feeling as she passed the threshold. The pokemon jerked upright, and stared at her like a frightened animal.

Char held her empty hands up for him to see. “Relax. I’m unarmed. No weapons, no pokemon, nothing. Hell, you’ve got the advantage here, even”

He was silent, save for heavy, distressed breathing.

Char could feel nothing from him. Not just from the disruption fields, but from the sheer power of the inhibitor. As silent as being in the room with another human; no connection, no, emotions, no space being filled.

“Can you speak?”

He hesitated, then shook his head, pointing to the back of his skull. Char nodded in understanding.

“How about vocally?”

He shook his head again, pointing at his throat. With a crackle, Bright chimed in through the microphone. “Ah, Mewtwo’s vocal cords are… vestigial. Unfit for being taught human speech.”

“For fuck’s sake,” Char grumbled to herself, running her good hand through her hair as she tried to process the sheer volume of pokemon rights violations going on here. She took a deep breath, the strange pressure of the anti-psy fields in place making her feel… claustrophobic. It was either that, or this cell. “...Hold on a sec’.”

The window the observation room used was a one way mirror on this side, so Char could see the indignation in her face as she strode up to it. She tapped the surface insistently, glaring blindly at the scientist on the other side.

“Hey! What the hell is wrong with you people?!”

The intercom crackled again. “Look, we needed to get him under contro-”

“You’re not getting him under control, you’re silencing him so you don’t have to him  _ fucking scream! _ This is a class-A sapient pokemon, not a goddamn growlithe you can muzzle whenever it’s convenient!”

“I’m, I’m sorry, but we can’t just risk it, we don’t know how little he needs t-”

“Let me put it this way, then!” Char yelled over him, cutting him off. “I can’t train a pokemon I can’t communicate with! Or do you  _ want  _ me to report how you purposefully interfered with my progress on  _ Giovanni’s asset? _ ”

A few seconds of silence ticked by, Char glowering past her reflection all the while. Behind her, she could see the reflection of Mewtwo watching; curiously, if the steady swish of his tail was anything to go by.

The intercom turned on again. “Al-alright, I guess we can turn it down maybe… ten percent?”

Char glanced behind her. “Ten percent sound good to you?”

Mewtwo’s tail flicked in a more annoyed, deliberate manner, but he still silently nodded.

“Okay… alright,” Bright’s disembodied voice cracked, “I’ll get the technician in here for it. I hope you know what you’re doing.”

Char nodded, satisfied, or at least as much as she could be in this circumstance. Behind her, the gaunt form of her new charge still watched her intently, ears folded back against his head. Clawed, paw-like hands clenched fistfuls of the pitiful hospital blanket his cot was dressed with. There was undeniable clarity in his eyes, an intelligence his captors were trying to handle, poorly. Char didn’t doubt he was dangerous; all sapient pokemon were. That’s just what happens when you give a pokemon the reasoning ability of a human. They’re going to react badly when you don’t treat them like a person.

“It isn’t much honey, I know,” she assured, not turning around to keep from spooking him, “but things will get better. Cooperation goes a long way.”

Mewtwo bowed his head to look away from her, focusing on picking at the fur on his knuckles.

Bright and another of the scientist team entered the room with slow, frightened caution. Mewtwo met them with a bestial snarl, and they predictably flinched. Char studied his reaction; he was baring his teeth, but not really displaying any other signs of fear or aggression. He was getting a rise out of them. He knew they were terrified of him, and it was his only advantage.

Char didn’t tell them he was fucking with them. Why should she? They needed to learn when he was and wasn’t a threat. Their overcompensation was a direct result of that, and with the report on the destroyed lab, it was clear this was the B team. They were the people who probably didn’t count on dealing with this pokemon at all.

It took a full unwrapping of his bandages and a partial dismantling of the device for the technician to begin lowering the frequency of the inhibitor. Char was only vaguely aware of the technology behind anti-psy instruments; they gave her the creeps, simply from the implications. Usually, they were things like collars or headbands that could be removed, or generators of room-filling fields of negating energy. The brutal way they ensured Mewtwo would always be under control would have given anyone else in the real world a prison sentence; psychic pokemon were protected by their own set of League rules. Sapient species had more than enough red tape around them to discourage people from trying to train them too, their inherent difficulty aside. It was unpleasant to think of how easily the League might have tried to make surgically-installed inhibitors mandatory for some of the more ‘troublesome’ races covered by the Sapience Act.

The technician softly talked him through the process, gauging how clearly he could hear Mewtwo’s responses. Char, with her sensitivity, could slowly feel a presence sink into her mind; faded, but active.

“Alright,” the technician announced, “ten percent, but no more. And don’t even  _ think  _ of doing anything other than telepathy.”

Contempt dripped in the pokemon’s reply, resonating in Char’s head. _ “As if I had a choice.” _

Feeling the psychic connection was a relief. The two scientists wasting no time in leaving was also a relief. Char could feel Mewtwo’s power begin to brush against her mind, trying to glean information from her thoughts. With his weakened state, it was easy to shut him out; no doubt causing no small amount of annoyance.

“Let’s try this again,” she cautiously held out a hand. “I’m Char, I’ll be training you for a bit.”

Mewtwo only stared at her hand in confusion, and she gave up on engaging the handshake. The pokemon narrowed his eyes at her suspiciously.  _ “Why did you make them do that?” _

“I came here to train a psychic, not some sad mute,” Char shrugged. “Besides; I’m not too keen on this situation, either.”

Mewtwo tensed up, crossing his arms defensively as he shrunk back into the corner of his cot. _ “You will not be successful. I will not be anyone’s pet.” _

Char was blunt, immovable in the face of him coiling up like a snake getting ready to strike. “You don’t really have a choice. Just keep your head down, cooperate, and better treatment will follow. You acting like a feral fuckin’ animal is what got you into this situation.”

Mewtwo kept up eye contact in a show of defiance.  _ “Make me.” _

For a moment, it almost worked. Char ignored the surge of anger he was trying to instill in her; whether he was trying to plant an emotion in her head or was merely just getting her riled up was uncertain. She could see how carefully he was looking for an opening with her. Even if he didn’t have his power, he still definitely had his teeth. You didn’t need any abilities to tear out a throat.

“In due time,” Char deflected his icy glare with a smirk, “we’ve only just begun. Just remember, I’m not the worst person they could have put you up with.”

She could feel the prying fingers of curiosity in her head, the pokemon looking for some sort of hint to her inner thoughts. Mewtwo’s muzzle wrinkled with his frustration before he resorted to asking,  _ “How so?” _

Char smiled confidently, and concentrated what meager psychic power instilled in her to silently send him the words she couldn’t say on camera.  _ “I’m the only one here who’s going to treat you like a person, so count your blessings.” _


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW: sexual content]

_“Playing the ol’ ‘I’m the only friend you got in here’ angle, huh? Not bad.”_ Nico laid on his front on their bed, letting Char brush the coarse fur of his back.

“He’s too intelligent for anything else,” Char observed, “building a rapport first before trying to ease him into the lifestyle is a hell of a lot better than fuckin’... installing a anti-psy device in his head.”

Nico shivered slightly underneath her hands. _“I feel for my not-brother, I really do, but you do realize he’s going to expect you to do something about all of this, right?”_

Char paused from grooming to pick a sizable wad of brown fur out of the brush. “Like what, bust him out? I’m basically a prisoner here, too. Besides, I managed to turn you around on Giovanni, didn’t I?”

 _“You used some rather unconventional training tactics on me,”_ Nico reminded her, a hint of salaciousness in his words belying the innuendo. _“Unless you plan on using those on him, as well?”_

Char scoffed. “What, like seducing him? I don’t go around just trying to fuck _every_ sapient I come across, you know.”

 _“Well, you could have fooled me.”_ Nico turned over languidly, and shot her a smug look as he smoothed down the fur of his chest with deliberate sensuality. Char snorted briefly with laughter.

“That’s not on my gameplan here. Besides… Alakazam mate for life, don’t they?”

Nico’s nose wrinkled in response, ears drawing back. _“I wouldn’t know.”_

“Oh, that’s right, the uh,”

_“The clone thing.”_

“Yeah,” heat rose in Char’s cheeks. “At least you know what species you are, I guess. Nothing’s stopping you from going back to your roots.”

Nico’s whiskers swayed from the twitching of his upper lip, curled into a sneer. _“My ‘roots’ are, at best, a few sad little colonies in preservations only barely protected by League restrictions. I hardly feel a connection to them.”_

Char felt his cool attitude mask some underlying discontent, unable to fully hide it from their connection. They didn’t talk about where he came from much. Alakazam were rare enough that maybe you wouldn’t know he was different, if you hadn’t seen one in the ‘wild’. For Char, it was undeniable that he was the largest, most human-like of his kind she encountered. He was a proof of concept, of a sort; one of the prototype clones whose success lead to Giovanni funding the creation of Mewtwo. An older brother, in the vaguest sense, in that the two of them were without any sort of family.

“Ehh, you’re too pampered, anyways.” Char defused the mood between them by giving him a scratch on his chin. Reflexively, he stuck his neck out, chin up, and leaned into the affection. Some behaviors would always be present in a pokemon, no matter where they came from.

 

Char wouldn’t call herself an expert in training, in the scientific sense. Maybe ‘veteran’ would have been a better term; but that made her sound more like a grizzled old Victory Road burnout than she liked. Still, she had experience, and a sensitivity that took years for others to train for. A talent hard-earned; and a mark on her mind that she still needed medication to treat. That was only one of the threads that pulled her into this mess. The debt from all of her medical bills, no longer paid for by the League after her resignation, had to go somewhere. Like any good loanshark, Giovanni made his deal sound irresistible at the time. The favor he wanted in turn sounded like a piece of cake, compared to whatever dead-end job the League would stick someone like her in.

She wouldn’t say she regretted working for him altogether; all humans were the same, and she included herself in that. She did her share of muggings, shakedowns, and ‘accidents’ on the road. The routes were a lawless place, and when you’re a teen with a gang of increasingly powerful pokemon, things could get messy. Messier than the League liked to admit. They loved their child stars more than they loved keeping them alive. Char felt like she reached her life expectancy as a trainer long ago, and she was only in her thirties.

At least Rocket was up front about the danger they accrued, even if this particular job was well out of their wheelhouse. A genetically altered Kadabra, raised in a lab and now acting out as he matured, was one thing. The clone of a species Char only saw in creation myths was another. She thought Mew was a _metaphor_ , not an actual species. That had to be several years of sunday school down the drain right there. And he… didn’t know, did he? The scope of whatever knowledge they even allowed Mewtwo to absorb was another headache Char had to deal with. Giovanni certainly wasn’t going to.

Char didn’t bother leaving her cane at the door this time around; her leg hurt too damn much. The fact that Mewtwo looked at it like she was bringing a bat into his cage wasn’t promising. Nothing about this was promising, really.

“Relax,” she spoke over the steady, stressed thumping of his tail against the wall. “I got a bad leg and i’m not in the mood for any of this.”

She sat down on the farthest edge of the cot, but even that distance was too much for the skittish pokemon. He holed himself up in the corner, tail wrapped around himself protectively, and glowered. The unpleasant cocktail of anger, fear, and stress was forming a migraine in Char’s head, compounding on the pain she already dealt with.

For a moment, she had to breathe deep and collect herself. She knew this was on purpose; manipulating the senses wasn’t going to be hard for a psychic of his power. She was just surprised that he was still able to do it under all the anti-psy defenses they set up. Char stretched out her bad leg carefully, and the knee clicked in protest. The joint was only getting worse with age, owing to the traumatic injury that took everything below it. The metal ankle of her prosthesis was visible enough under her pants that it caught Mewtwo’s eye. Char watched his ears flick, swivelling into a less aggressive, relaxed position.

She tugged the denim up her knee a bit to reveal more metal. “Yeah, you probably feel this too, don’t you? The knee gives me hell whenever the phantom pain doesn’t.”

 _“Phantom pain?”_ The pokemon’s curiosity made the onslaught of his weaponized negativity ebb. Char felt relief just from the idea that she could get somewhere with this.

“It’s uh, where a lost limb doesn’t quite register in the brain. I lost it in an attack, so I still… _feel_ the attack, so to speak. Trauma and all that.”

The migraine dulled as Mewtwo kept his eyes on the leg, silently thinking in a frequency Char couldn’t sense. There was a few seconds of empty silence between the two; between whatever he was considering, and Char’s careful gauging of the connection between them. The way Mewtwo’s own right foot began to knead at the mattress restlessly confirmed to her that the empathic response went both ways for them. The more of himself he wanted her to feel, the easier he was opened up to her own myriad of physical ailments.

 _“... You were bitten,”_ Mewtwo concluded. It seemed he would rather solve the mystery through examining their psychic bond, rather than ask politely.

“Yeah. It wasn’t a clean bite, neither.” Looking back, Char was a bit numb to it. It was years ago, no matter what her subconscious brain thought. Her consciousness had long since delegated it to another story of her exploits, mapped out on her body. “I was… what, twelve? Thirteen? Eh, doesn’t matter. I ran across some crime gang’s business, and the guy in charge wanted to remove me from the equation. I thought I’d stop him when I battled him, but then he threw me into the water and let his Sharpedo have at me.”

An uncertain, mildly horrified chill ran between them. Char had difficulty trying to convey her acceptance to him in anything other than a quiet, sardonic laugh. “That was years ago, though; other than the pain I couldn’t care less. A lot worse shit has happened since then.”

Mewtwo’s brow wrinkled in a noticeably human way. _“... Did he get away with it?”_

Char chuckled at that. That was another story altogether. “Hell no, he didn’t.”

It felt like between them, the taught strings of tension slackened just a bit. Just enough breathing room. Of course it would be the implied revenge that would placate him, in the end.

“... So, how’s _your_ war wound doing?” Char gestured vaguely at her own head.

Mewtwo’s paw strayed towards the bandages on his head, and stopped short; hesitating on answering her.

 _“It doesn’t hurt…_ **_physically_ ** _, but if I just try to think too hard, it hurts. But it’s not…_ **_really_ ** _pain.”_ He gestured vaguely at his head in a way that mirrored Char.

The trainer frowned with concern. “This shit was banned for sapient classes for a reason.”

 _“I feel like i’m in a cell even smaller than this one,”_ Mewtwo curled up tighter, becoming a ball of thin fur and skin stretched over the points of his bones. _“Every moment of my life I’ve been in a cell, and now I can’t even be free inside my own mind anymore. Why are they doing this? They told me I was humanity’s greatest achievement. They praised my existence unconditionally until I stopped wanting to be treated like an experiment.”_

The breath left Char’s lungs entirely, and for a moment it hurt too much to inhale again. Mewtwo’s foot continued to curl and flex to shake off the phantom pain shared between them. Seconds of silence ticked by, each one more uncomfortable than the last, as Char fruitlessly searched for something to say. Some explanation she clearly didn’t have, that felt she still needed to give him. Or, _did_ she have something? No, not an explanation. A metaphor.

_“... After giving every power, talent, and virtue it had to the pokemon it created, Mew saw that humans were left with nothing. They had no power, no advantage, no hope to evolve; and Mew only had one gift left: selfishness.”_

Mewtwo perked up to stare at her in quiet confusion. Char felt slightly embarrassed over how little she remembered of the actual tale, now that she had recited it aloud.

“It’s… where I come from, the Hoenn Islands, we have our own set of creation myths. One of them is that Mew made all sentient life on the planet. Not to say that’s true, I mean, if _you’re_ here, maybe it really _was_ just some ancient species pokemon evolved from.”

Mewtwo tilted his head, perplexed. _“Humans made up stories explaining why they’re selfish?”_

Char immediately felt like she bit off more than she could chew, here. “Well it’s, it’s symbolism _,_ you know? Nobody really _thinks_ Mew is a god that cheated humanity; but they do _know_ that humanity is selfish. We’re always looking for new ways to control pokemon for ourselves.  It’s wrong, and we know it’s wrong. We’ve known we shouldn’t be doing the things we’re doing now for hundreds, thousands of years.”

She could feel the gears turning quietly in the pokemon’s head. She probably just laid down at least three concepts that were entirely alien to him, not even counting what she was trying to say about humans.

 _“... But why?”_ Mewtwo asked, as she predicted.

Char’s heart was heavy in her chest, and she answered the best way she knew.

“The world has always been run by people like Giovanni.”

* * *

 

Dr. Bright flinched when the butt of a cane tapped against the back of his leg. That trainer was behind him, looking as mildly angry at him as ever. “Oh! Uh, Ms. Jessop, did you want something?”

“We need to talk.”

The compound’s cafeteria was rather small, just big enough to service the large amount of employees assigned to the private base. Like many amenities Rocket provided, it was bare-bones, cheap, and had a distinct, unwelcoming feeling. Char sat the doctor down across from her at a sad little card table in the corner. She sat in her own chair sideways, letting her leg stretch out for comfort.

She cut right to the chase, as she seemed to prefer. “Tell me about the other lab.”

Bright tensed for a moment, eyes turned down to the bare table between him as he recollected his memories. Char didn’t need to read his mind, if she ever wanted to, to see when someone was remembering something painful.

“Well. It was an artificial landmass seventy miles away from Cinnabar Island. They called it New Island; not a great name, I know, Giovanni named it and you should know how that goes.” Bright managed a small smile that fell flat, looking at the deathly serious look on Char’s face.

“I was a surgical assistant there throughout the project; I guess you could say I’m the only survivor. I had family business during the, uh, the incident.”

He went pale, and silent. Char waited patiently for him to process the horror flashing through his eyes.

“There were about twenty people on the team, including myself. Nineteen people died. The lab was razed to the ground. The shockwave it caused made Mount Cinnabar spew ash for days-”

“ _He_.”

Bright blinked. “Excuse me?”

Char stared at him cooly. “He. You use _it_ when referring to him whenever you don’t want to shoulder the responsibility of acknowledging him as a living being. Not your fault, of course, people tend to do it when we talk about pokemon-related accidents or attacks. We’re conditioned to objectify pokemon when they stop being seen as subservient or beneficial.”

“That’s... kind of a reach,” Bright objected.

She gave him a small, sly smile. “But you still did it, didn’t you?”

She wasn’t wrong.

The scientist pushed his glasses farther up his nose, and gave her an increasingly dire look. “I’m not exactly concerned with the personhood of somethi- some _one_ who killed all of my friends in cold blood. The only reason I’m here is _because_ I survived. I’m the only person who still retains some of the data we lost in the escape.”

Her lack of reaction to being told people died was distressing him, even without the unwanted memories he was made to recollect. Char rubbed the scarred stumps on her left hand where two missing fingers would be, thoughtfully.

“There had to have been a reason he did this. I’m not going to stress him out more by asking him directly. They weren’t mistreating him, were they?”

“Of _course_ not! We had been raising him on the island for two years with no problems at all!” Bright raised his voice and it cracked, belying that he probably didn’t do so often. “He was like… god, he was like our kid for a while. We played catch with him. He had free roam over the island. When we had shore leave we brought him back gifts. Things were going _so well_.”

“But what _happened?_ ”

Bright paused, swallowed, and held onto his composure. In the fluorescent lighting, sweat was beginning to shine on his forehead.

“It wasn’t… violent. He didn’t lash out. That’s, that’s what gets me, you know? The autopsies were all the same; even if they were burnt from the lab being destroyed, they all died hours before. Of an aneurysm.”

His breath was ragged as took a moment to collect himself once again. He glanced desperately at Char, and found her disconcertingly calm by comparison.

“He waited until the right time, found just the right blood vessel in their brains, and used his powers to squeeze it. It was premeditated. This wasn’t some crime of passion, or some desperate escape from cruelty. He just wanted them to fucking _die_.”

“Calm down, doc,” Char placidly warned, “It was an awful thing that happened, I know, but it wasn’t senseless. That’s not a cold-blooded murderer in that cell.”

“Well, that’s what Giovanni fucking ordered, wasn’t it?” Bright’s hands shook as he pulled a carton of cigarettes out of his pocket, looked mournfully at them, and put them back with a resigned sigh.

“He wanted us to make the most powerful pokemon in the world, and we succeeded.”

“Do you think anything happened to him that would make him do this? He _did_ know who he was created for, right?”

Bright’s lips were a bloodless, grim line as he considered the question.

“I don’t know if he wanted to believe it. I think, deep down, he hoped one of us would step up and protect him from what was to come.”

After mulling it over, he took out the carton again. His unsteady hands fumbled with flipping up the top. “Mind if I, uh,”

He took Char’s shrug as permission enough to light a cigarette for himself. The little box was tipped her way, and she held up a polite, halting hand.

“I wonder if the whole incident was like, a last resort, you know?” Bright mumbled, and let smoke stream from his mouth and nose with a world-weary sigh. “Like, he was supposed to leave the island that week. We thought he was excited for finally getting to see the mainland.”

Char steepled her fingers pensively, leaning over the table to study the man’s face. “He saw nobody was going to stop Giovanni from taking him, and felt betrayed, do you think?”

“I don’t… I don’t know.”

“Was there anything you guys were keeping from him? His origins, his purpose, anything? Did he even _know_ about the pokemon he came from?”

“We were pretty transparent, I think.” Ash flicked onto the ground carelessly. Bright seemed a little less tense for giving into his vice, at least. “I wasn’t very high up on the food chain there, I don’t know who might have kept what secrets. I mean, with Giovanni, there’s bound to be some _secrets_.”

Char nodded, silent in her consideration of his words. Time ticked by, the cloud of grief just as heavy and choking as the cloud of smoke that formed around their table.

“Alright, onto my next question then; who okayed the psy-inhibitor?”

Bright took another long, oblivion-seeking drag. “I did.”

He watched her eyes darken. Perhaps he couldn’t understand it like she could. She was some sort of empath, wasn’t she?

“Is there any way we can wean him off it from good behavior?”

“I wouldn’t risk it. Giovanni even agreed; He’s setting up some sort of… focused suppressor installation at the Viridian Gym, last i heard.”

Char sputtered, momentarily losing her composure. “Don’t tell me he’s gonna fuckin’ fight with him in _League battles?_ In sanctioned Gym tournaments?? In front of an _audience?”_

Bright groaned, rubbing at his temple with his free hand in growing exasperation.“I don’t know! I’d guess it would be something off the record! You know how he is, you’ve worked with him before, yeah?”

“A couple times,” Char admitted. She looked distantly around her, at the barren, mostly-empty cafeteria. “Training Nico was the big one; when I was in Viridian City for that, there was a lot less red tape. But Nico wasn’t dangerous, he just wouldn’t mind for shit.”

Bright hummed thoughtfully to himself. Ash dropped onto the table. “He’s a bit young for an Alakazam, isn’t he?”

There was a noticeable softening in Char’s expression, at the subject of the pokemon. “Yeah, he’s uh, a provoked evolution. Most trained Kadabra go their whole lives without evolving, because the mastery of their power just can’t be taught by most humans.”

“But _you_ could do it.”

“I helped him along. Mostly disciplined him. I can’t see myself applying the same techniques on Mewtwo, though, he’s a bit,” Char stopped, and mulled it over. “Well, he’s a bit fragile from all this, isn’t he?”

Bright looked grim as he took out a napkin to smear the blunted tip of the cigarette into. “I wouldn’t take that at face value. He’s not so innocent.”

“He just needs to be coaxed along. Taught some empathy.” Char shrugged. “But, that’s not the type of pokemon Giovanni wants, isn’t it?”

The scientist shook his head, his smile humorless. “Empathy is the last thing Giovanni wants from a pokemon. He wanted a killing machine; and he got one.”

With a final sigh, Bright blinked the sadness left in his eyes, and regained professional composure. “My break’s over. I hope I cleared some things up, at least.”

He didn’t look at Char, as he slipped out of his seat before she could get a word in edgewise. He left her to consider his words in the haze of smoke, alone.

* * *

 

Nico could barely get a ‘hello’ in, when Char stormed into their shared room and clambered onto his lap.

“I need a pick-me-up,” She demanded. The Alakazam barely had time to think a response before she roughly pressed her lips to his muzzle. Ah, _that_ sort of pick-me-up . He didn’t need to ask.

Char rolled her hips against him eagerly, inciting him to grab onto her. Her clothes were a nuisance that he took to yanking off with telekinesis, bypassing the awkwardness of his large, inhuman hands. Jeans and a jacket were tossed onto the floor. A leg followed soon afterwards.

 _“How do you want this to go?”_ Nico’s voice thrummed pleasantly in her head, kneading out the knots of pain and stress in the folds of her mind as it did.

Char sprawled out on the bed invitingly, nude, with a determined look on her flushed face. “Just make me fucking _cum,_ already.”

Nico barely gestured with his hand in a slow, closing motion. Char gasped audibly as her muscles tensed on command. She quickly felt like a marionette held up by strings; and those strings were all of her nerve endings as as she was made painfully, overwhelmingly aware of every inch of her body.

She shivered; teeth gritting, hips jerking upward, thigh muscles spasming. Everything was alight and electric, hyper-sensitive and overstimulated. She was so close already her eyes watered, an overwhelmed sob catching in her chest as she stayed at that edge, artificially held back.

Nico snapped his fingers. A lightning-fast shock of pleasure pierced between her legs and traveled up her spine; and when it hit her head, she felt like she was falling into the abyss….

 

When she could see color again and remember how many fingers she had, Char was left alone in her room. It wasn’t the first time she passed out after such an intense psychic shock, so she wasn’t too concerned. A bit lonely, maybe. She hoped to talk afterwards, but Nico had… a job. A purpose she wasn't a part of. He was never really _her_ pokemon.

Char was left to simmer alone in the things she wanted to say well into the evening. While eating dinner with her boys. While taking a bath. While lying supine on the bed to wait out a vertigo spell, when she took her meds later than she should have. Questions were rehearsed over and over in her head; getting revisioned and warped between different tones and different emotions she felt on the matter. She over-thought her words so much, they were starting to lose meaning. Hours had passed. She was still alone.

Eventually, she realized that nothing was keeping her in this sad little room. She could just _leave_ ; a privilege she was realizing she took for granted. She knew where Nico conducted his work behind the scenes in the compound, she could just find him. Why was she waiting for a pokemon? No; why was she waiting for a _man?_

It was strange that a pokemon could be influential enough to have their own office. Even moreso in a syndicate like Team Rocket, but it wasn’t unheard of. Giovanni’s use for Nico was that of a loyal correspondent; and a slightly sinister one, considering his abilities. An agent could lead mooks around and hope they do things right, but a psychic can _control_ them. The implications were not lost on Char. She was already painfully aware of what it felt like to be an extension of psychic will.

The door was locked, but she could hear the faint tones of a familiar voice behind it. There was no response to it that she could hear with her ears or her mind, so she deduced that it was a video call. A soft knock on the door triggered a wave of scrutinizing presence; the psychic picked at her head, recognized her, and unlocked the door. Predictably, Nico did all of that while sitting down. He was still signing in front of the video screen at Giovanni, not missing a beat. Was she intruding?

“-Right. Keep me updated on this.” Giovanni was curt in between Nico’s nonverbal responses. You couldn’t convey telepathy over the phone, after all. Just as quickly as Char could see her boss on the monitor, the feed cut out to blackness.

 _“I was just finishing up;”_ Nico explained, _“it took me forever to explain the damn inhibitor to him. He thinks you could just press a button and have a psychic attack something on command.”_

Char scowled upon being reminded of that infernal device. “He really has no idea what he’s dealing with, does he?”

 _“Why should he? He has_ **_people_ ** _for that.”_ The Alakazam turned to her in a desk chair too small for his hulking frame. _“... Is there something wrong?”_

Char hesitated. It suddenly felt like neither the time nor place for this. “... Its nothing. I was just bored and... missing you, I guess.”

The corners of Nico’s lips curled on either side of his long muzzle. His species didn’t exactly emote like humans could, so the imitation was deliberate. And unnecessary. _“I won’t press the issue.”_

There was something frustrating about the lack of connection their minds had; he was keeping her at arm’s length. Did he think she couldn’t tell?

“What _am_ I to you, exactly?” Char blurted out as fast as she could, lest she stammer. Nico’s ears perked up in acknowledgment.

“Am I just… am i just your master, or your partner? Your lover? Your _equal?_ _Can_ we be equal?”

 _“Charlotte,”_ Nico’s voice took on that gentle thrum, that soothing frequency. _“You’re so many things to me, far more than a mere trainer; if that’s what’s concerning you.”_

Char took a deep breath. She told herself she wouldn’t get upset, and yet…“ _God_ , just, why am I doing this? Why are _you_ doing this? This is a _person_ , he’s a fucking _person_ and I have to treat him like an animal!”

Nico considered her words and thoughts as they became more unraveled with her emotions. His response was cold and sterile against the growing storm he faced.

_“He is not a person. You shouldn’t treat him like anything more than a pokemon.”_

“What makes _you_ so different than him, then?” Char said, almost accusingly, “Don’t tell me you feel _nothing_ about this situation?”

A moment of silence between them was colored by Nico’s cool, placid presence in Char’s head. He always was a level-headed sort, rarely letting raw emotion show in his psychic exchanges. As stoic inside as his vulpine visage was on the outside.

 _“This is just what_ **_we_ ** _had, once,”_ he reassured. _“You know how to work with someone as intelligent as him, and you know how to do it effectively.”_

Char’s own presence was a scrambled radio signal in Nico’s head; bits and pieces of comprehensive thought were lost in a spiralling haze of distress. When she got upset, she tended to get out of control, and he was prepared for that. She was always the sort who let things boil over inside of her.

“I thought I was training a pokemon, not _breaking_ some poor bastard.You were _born_ into this.” Char took a deep breath. The scrambled thoughts were starting to smooth out, and her frustration began to ring true between them. “Even if you’re a clone, you come from generations of Kazam, hundreds of years of your species being around humans. This guy is just... he was dropped, fully formed, into a world that he’s not a part of. Into a system he _doesn’t understand_.”

Nico tilted his head in a disconcertingly familiar way. _“You think he’s less of a pokemon from a lack of a history with his species?”_

Carefully, Char willed herself to hobble over to his desk, if only to take the pressure off her knee. “It’s... it’s hard to explain. But you know what you were like, back then! At least you understood how the world works!”

Nico was close enough to gently pull her into a loose-limbed embrace. Leaning into his touch, Char nuzzled into his chest, tried not to draw attention to her sniffling.

 _“You can’t let him get to you,”_ the Alakazam explained, _“I know you’re concerned, but you should err on the side of caution. He is intelligent, and desperate, and he may attempt to manipulate you in order to escape again.”_

“For fuck’s sake,” Char’s groan was muffled in his fur, and she snapped out of her moment of comfort to glare back at him. “What part of this scrawny asshole looks _dangerous_ to you?”

 _“All pokemon are merely dangerous; it’s the ones like me and him that are humanity’s worst nightmare.”_ Nico ran his fingers through her hair, catching them on knots and tangles as he brushed them out. _“The same fear that made them install an inhibitor in his skull, incited war with the civilization I supposedly came from. Humans both fear and covet us.”_

“I’m not afraid of him,” Char’s voice found some stability between the wavering and cracking of her breakdown. “I’m not afraid of him, and I don’t need to be warned about just feeling _sorry_ for him.”

_“Charlotte,”_

“ _Nicodemus,_ ” Char retorted, with twice the venom. Nico’s ears drew back in displeasure.

 _“Don’t let your empathy get the better of you,”_ he warned, _“it’s a useful advantage, but a glaring weakness when you’re faced with my kind.”_

Char looked the pokemon in the eyes defiantly. “I know what I’m doing.”

 _“_ **_Do_ ** _you?”_

“What, you think I _like_ doing this? Giovanni’s dangling my meds over my head to get me to jump like a, like a-”

 _“Like a trained pokemon?”_ Nico asked, sardonic humor momentarily tainting his words.

For a moment, Char was speechless. Shaking her head with a tired sigh, her reply came out more half-hearted than she liked.

“...Fuck you, man.”

 


	4. Chapter 4

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW: blood, gore, needles, medical stuff]

The ‘yard’ outside the shack that hid the entrance to the underground base was a plain, grassy field lined with a chain-link fence. Char had taken to using it during the day, between her sessions in the dreary lab. It felt like just about the only thing keeping her sane.

“Alright,” her command carried over the yard with a practiced, confident tone, “Mercury, Yanna! In position!”

A giant, thick-bodied fighting type lumbered casually into place. The man-sized, bipedal bird bounced with a more restless energy around it before taking their position in front of the other pokemon. They turned to look at their trainer, who sat on a makeshift bench of a few milk crates and a folded card table.

“Contact moves only,” Char instructed, “No fire moves, no ground moves.  Capisce?”

The two sounded off in their respective, unique languages; a deep throaty thrum from the fighter, a sharp trill from the bird. Char snapped her fingers.

A Blaziken and a Hariyama looked like a lopsided match, but her two aces were a single unit when working together. They sparred together for decades now, but they still tackled their matches with the same enthusiasm they had when they were a chick and cub, respectively. Their strengths complimented each other’s flawlessly, the product of a bond between the three of them that didn’t need to be psychically charged to be meaningful.

Yanna’s enormous hands absorbed the shock of Mercury’s flurry of kicks, and at the right moment, yanked the bird by the leg with a surprised squawk. Mercury redirected himself into a slide across the dirt, kicking up some errant flames that scorched the grass. Char chuckled, and leaned down between her legs to give a resting Jupiter a loving scratch just before his mane.

This was her family, more-so than her actual family. If they didn’t take up so much space, she’d let them out more; it made her almost miss the old Jessop ranch. She had to give up the pipe dream of retiring to Hoenn and letting her boys out to pasture when she started getting involved in all this… _Rocket business_.

Said Rocket business reared its ugly head again. Dr. Bright turned the corner, no doubt coming straight from the underground for her. His pristine lab coat was blinding in the midday sun, and whipped around his legs unflatteringly in the wind. He momentarily stopped to gawk at the sparring pokemon.

“I thought you’d have a few more psychics on your team.”

“Eh, I like variety. Thought I was going to be a fighting specialist before I lost my leg.” Char shrugged, and inched further down the bench to allow the doctor room to sit.

“Are all your pokemon from Hoenn?” Bright hesitated to take the seat when the Manectric at their master’s feet opened one eye to glare at him.

“Yep. Except Nicodemus, I guess.” Char kept an eye on her pokemon, and saw Mercury’s leg begin to kick up smoke in their continued match. She had to put on her trainer voice for this one.

“ _Merc’! No fire!_ Cool off if you gotta, c’mon!”

The Blaziken dug the offending foot into the dirt, and tried to stop the production of his natural flames while blocking and feinting in a fast, nimble dance across the yard. Char clucked her tongue.

“Twenty-five years old, and he still smokes up a storm when he’s frustrated. Still a little combie throwing a tantrum.”

She pointed Bright’s direction towards the massive Hariyama that matched Mercury’s attacks with surprising swiftness. “Now Yanna, nothing fazes him. Hariyama are already calm folk, but I think dealing with Mercury’s shit for so long gave him the patience of a rock.”

Bright nodded in the dumb, civilian way that Char was all too familiar with. “Training’s um, not my forte, but they do look like impressive pokemon.”

“They’re champions. Regionally registered; Hoenn’s 54th League Cup. You follow the cup matches any?”

“Not really,”

“You’re lookin’ at one of the youngest former champions in the League,” Char smirked, “at least, in Hoenn. Turns out, regional championships dont mean shit as soon as you _leave_ that region.”

“...I can imagine.”

The scientist sat and watched, sticking out like a sore thumb in comparison to Char and her team. Like her, they were battle-hardened from their league career; Mercury’s legs were developing the bald streak along the lower parts where he produced the trademark Blaziken flames. His feathers were fireproof, but frequent battling and overproduction of the necessary chemical reaction had thinned them out considerably. Yanna’s physique was softening as he matured into a proper bull; he would have been retired to one of the preserved colonies, if they were back home. He deserved to go back to his people, and pass down his experiences as a mentor, or a father. Mercury would fare better herding livestock, or some other banal role fit for his energy levels.

In the end, a well-placed flying kick knocked Yanna onto his rear with a grunt. The ground shook slightly from the impact. Mercury climbed atop his defeated ‘foe’, and crowed triumphantly at the sun. Char gave them both a modest clap.

_“Boys! To me!”_

The two pokemon were large enough to warrant five-gallon jugs of water to quench their thirst; Bright had wondered why there wasn’t any in the water coolers this morning. Maybe now that she didn’t seem as busy, he could work up the courage to ask Char what he sought her out for.

“I need you to do us a favor.”

Char didn’t look at him. “Nope.”

The scientist sputtered. “Wh- you don’t even know what I’m going to say-”

“If you had to go all the way up to the surface and flag me down on my _down time_ , its probably something I don’t want to fuckin’ do.”

Bright groaned in frustration, watching as she poured water in a dog bowl for her Manectric. “God, now I know where Nicodemus gets it.”

Char snorted. “What the sass? That’s all him. I’m just an asshole.”

At least she was honest.

The trainer smiled to herself, watching over her team like a proud mother hen for a moment of peace. Out of the corner of her eye, she saw Bright taking out a cigarette.

“I wouldn’t smoke in front of a fire type, if I were you.”

Bright hesitated. “Why not?”

“Well, you don’t know if a pokemon’s flame is generated chemically or not unless you’re personally familiar with the species. Blaziken flames ignite oil they secrete from their skin, mostly along the legs. When they work up a sweat, it can get in the air, and suddenly your cig is blowing up in your face. You don’t control the fire in your smokes like they can control the fire in their bodies.”

She watched the scientist sigh, and put the cigarette back regretfully. Her expression was thoughtful, and at least a little softer than what he had seen from her so far. Maybe it was from getting some fresh air with her pokemon, maybe it was from antagonizing him. Who’s to say?

“I’m gonna be honest with you, doc,” Char said, finally, “I’m not great with humans. I’m not great with tragedy, either. I forget people aren’t hardasses like me, so… sorry, about the other day.”

“It’s… it’s fine, honestly.” Bright acknowledged her apology, as awkward as it was for the both of them.

Mercury went up to Char, and began to brusquely preen her curly hair with his beak, holding her shoulders in place. She put up with the rough, affectionate treatment with surprising casualness; closing her eyes, listening to the soft trilling of the content pokemon.

“... Alright, doc,” she sighed, “the hell do you want, then.”

Bright, who had just accepted not getting anything out of her, fumbled with the issue he had come here for in the first place.

“Oh it’s just, uh, we were hoping you could give us a hand in collecting some blood samples? He… well, he hates needles.”

Char groaned suddenly and angrily enough to catch the attention of all three of her resting pokemon. “Aw, _goddammit_. I shouldn’t’ve asked.”

But she knew, it was too late to back out now.

* * *

 

Char announced her arrival to the cell with a shamelessly fake, chipper greeting that immediately raised Mewtwo’s hackles. He glared daggers at her, but most of all towards the small surgical case she wheeled in alongside her.

**_“Absolutely not.”_ **

“Aw, I didn’t even get to say what I was going to do!” As Char wheeled the cart too close, Mewtwo slinked away farther to put space between them. He kept a wide berth, circling her like a skittish cat.

 _“I don’t want to take any more_ **_tests_ ** _,”_ he spat mentally at her, full of head-clouding ire.

Char was familiar enough with the growing pressure in her head now that she tolerated it for a moment, just enough to focus on the frequency she needed to be in. Then, she stamped the foot of her bad leg against the tile, as hard as she could. Mewtwo stumbled from the pain.

“You’re not slick, buddy. Just sit down and let’s get this over with.”

Mewtwo reared up to his full height to face her, staring defiantly down at the more unimpressed looking trainer. She merely noted that he had a good few inches on her; and she thought she was already a bit tall herself. The attempt at posturing fell flat from the weediness of his arms, and the stressed rate of his breathing. You could still see his ribs, his collarbone, every knuckle in his hands. Char kept up eye contact, making sure her expression was as stony as the part of her mind that was being engaged by him.

“Stand down, you’re not spooking anyone with those guns. For what it’s worth, I hate needles too.”

His posture sagged. _“I’m just so_ **_tired_ ** _of being poked and prodded, I don’t think I even have any veins left.”_

“Well, let’s see about that.” Char gave him the faintest push on the shoulder towards his cot, and he relented surprisingly easily.

Char worked in Centers long enough that she picked up a few nurse skills; when you were the only Joy for miles whether you liked it or not, you had to. It helped to have been stuck with plenty of needles in her time, one way or another.

Mewtwo’s fur was thin enough that places like the crooks of his elbows had patches of smooth, pink skin. He seemed to bruise easily; regular, now fading bruises from regular knocks and bumps occasionally showed under his fur at certain angles. The darker ones in his elbows and along his forearms indicated that he was, in fact, poked and prodded just a little bit too much. From a less than sympathetic lab team too, from what Char had gathered.

Char searched for a viable vein, her thumb rubbing against tendons and bones. “Damn, they really did just go to town on you, didn’t they?”

 _“Intravenous infusions, sedatives, immunization boosters,”_ Mewtwo recited a laundry list as his own thumb tenderly trailed down the map of blown veins in his arm. _“And that was just in the past week since my capture. I’m tired.”_

“I don’t doubt that,” Char continued her search. Mewtwo seemed uncomfortable, but resigned to his fate, allowing her to inspect his limp arms in her lap. This was about the closest she had got to him, so far; close enough that she noticed he had feline whiskers, and that he seemed to be plucking them, too. Another mark in her mental checklist of what parts of him were from what other types of pokemon. Over-grooming the whiskers was a common Kazam stress symptom. His fur-bare knuckles similarly seemed to be a nervous habit too, albeit a more human-like one.

“You should stop pulling your fur out,” she warned, with a more muted cautionary tone than she probably should. “It might seem harmless, but it can cause skin problems.”

Mewtwo put a hand over a set of particularly bare and irritated-looking fingers in a moment of self-consciousness. _“I should be allowed to do what I wish to my body.”_

“You’re right,” Char admitted, “but if you do something _stupid_ , I’m allowed to tell you off. You’re just breaking your skin when you pull your fur out, and you have enough immune system issues, don’t you?”

Mewtwo narrowed his eyes suspiciously as Char’s search for a vein steadily traveled up the insides of his upper arms. The marks of ruined veins were sparse enough there that she could a couple unscathed spots to attempt the procedure.

A tourniquet was tied above the selected area. “Now, I’m not the best Nurse Joy, so don’t hate me if I make a mess.”

 _“Oh, I already hate you, don’t worry,”_ Mewtwo snapped back immediately. The trainer beside him laughed aloud, echoing in the sparse room.

“ _Damn_ , alright! Didn’t know they could clone _sass_ into someone.”

Char could feel the tension in their connection spread thin as she continued the mechanical phlebotomy steps; he was more than familiar with it by now, and he seemed to hate every second of it. Her own ability to send back empathic response was limited, but she tried to keep up a calming air about her thoughts. A spark of his dread cut through her as she prepared the needle and catheter required.

“Just look away, alright? Think of something else.” She knew that wasn’t very reassuring, but there wasn’t much else she could do. Mewtwo, cooperatively, straightened out the arm and made a fist; staring grimly at the far end of the room as he did.

Char felt the muscles under her fingers tense just from her cleaning the site. She searched for something that might take his mind off of this. “So. Uh. I’m trying to get them to ease up on that inhibitor; I think if you show them you’ll obey, maybe they’ll give you some freedom back.”

 _“I will never be free,”_ Mewtwo was all too certain in his statement, _“what’s the point?”_

“We can’t always do what we want. Sometimes we need to do difficult things to get by.” Char hesitated before sticking the needle in; she could just _feel_ his heart rate rise from the idea of impending pain.

“...It never gets easier, does it?” She watched the movements of Mewtwo’s throat as he swallowed nervously.

 _“Blood makes me sick,”_ He admitted, a bit of embarrassment coloring his thoughts. He kept on staring pointedly at the middle distance, trying to dissociate himself from what was going on.

 _Great,_ Char thought bitterly to herself; presumably the most powerful pokemon in the world, and he’s _squeamish_.

She stuck the needle in at last, and felt the shared chill crawl up their spines after the initial prick. Mewtwo was rigid, staring with glazed eyes as his head turned farther away from the sight. Blood began to fill the collection vial.

“You’re doing great,” Char complimented him unhelpfully. He didn’t react, and his thoughts were purposefully a void. Static. Muted sensations of floating, the warmth of tepid water. He was withdrawing into some memory that brought him comfort; or at least, she hoped. At least he wasn’t complaining. She was probably too late for that. She arrived after the complaining, begging and fighting stopped, and gave way to a dull, resigned acceptance.

It couldn’t be over with sooner. Char tried to wrap up the procedure a little more quickly than she should, preparing a bandaid with some gauze while holding the catheter with some awkwardness due to her mangled hand. As auxiliary as the fingers she was missing were, their absence on her dominant hand felt like some cruel joke Arceus played on her sometimes. Or maybe Mew itself, if you went by certain myths.

Char held her breath, and carefully pulled out the needle. Mewtwo’s arm muscles twitched, and a spurt of blood spilt onto her hands before she could slap the bandage on in time. She grumbled a frustrated “ _fuck,_ ” as Mewtwo whimpered audibly, and screwed his eyes shut.

“Sorry, sorry,” She scrambled with shaking hands to get the soiled gloves off, and wipe off the droplets that splattered into his fur. _Of course_ his fur would be white, delicate, and impossible to wipe the blood off dry without leaving a telltale smear of pink. The pokemon bit back a gag, and his tail thumped purposefully against the edge of the bed.

Mewtwo took deep, ragged breaths, stared at the flourescent lights of the ceiling, and tried to wait out the wave of nervous nausea that gripped him. Char could feel it was that, at least. The horrible, sinking feeling that came with seeing your own blood on your hands. Or worse. A flash of memory flickered between them of much, much _more_ blood; viscera-stained fur, the sensation of the underside of skin being exposed to the open air… Mewtwo gagged again, and Char pulled the wastebasket under the table out just in time for him to retch.

Char cleaned up from the unpleasant job in silence, and let him try to ride his sickness out. Poor bastard. From what she could tell from that exchange, he might have woken up on the operating table before. That probably wasn’t even the worst of it, either.

Between uneven pants, Mewtwo’s telepathy almost sounded out of breath itself. _“It wasn’t your fault.”_

“Nah, I’m… I’m not great at this stuff.” Char flashed her left hand, and Mewtwo cocked his head at her old injury.

_“It seems like every time I see you, you’ve lost a new body part.”_

“Aw c’mon, you’ve seen my hand before.” Char felt relieved at the sensation of lifting tension. Mewtwo gazed thoughtfully at her scars.

_“I saw what happened to you. You were so numb from shock it took minutes to realize it. You couldn’t get your hand out of her mouth in time, and when you looked down all you saw was red.”_

“Uh, yeah.” Char perked up in surprise, caught off guard. She shouldn’t be surprised that he glimpsed some of her own trauma-associated memories; how they seemed to trade different, yet similar experiences in their connection subconsciously was a new development, though.

God damn fuckin’… _empath shit_.

Mewtwo’s thumb brushed against his own, intact knuckles. The raw, furless patches of skin were starkly pink against how his fur darkened gradually at the fingers. Char took note of the generous length of his dark claws. They weren’t helping his picking problem, for sure.

“Hmm. you know what,” she ventured, “I might give you a trim while we’re at it.”

_“...Give me a what?”_

* * *

 

Char kept her cool, even though the increasing nervousness of the pokemon was starting to get on her own nerves. It didn’t occur to her that maybe he might have never seen a simple pair of nail clippers before.

They were a heavy-duty brand she could use on the tips of Mercury’s talons, as well as Jupiter’s canine paws. A man-sized, overgrown cat(?) would fall somewhere in between those extremes in size. That is, if she could get him to sit still. As used to it as she was with manhandling her team for basic grooming, she figured he may have dealt with enough indignity for one day. So, she let him pace at the other end of the room, glaring pointedly at her. Hands balled into fists as if to protect one of the last natural defenses he had.

“C’mon, man, I’m tired. Let’s just get this over with,” Char bargained. Mewtwo glowered back at her.

 _“_ **_Fuck you._ ** _”_

Char tried not to chortle at the audacity of that. Did he learn that from her? “Alright, buddy, but just so you know: I’m used to wrestling _way_ bigger pokemon than you for _way_ dumber angry baby tantrums.”

_“I’d like to see you try.”_

Char idly wondered if he really could tear her throat out. Or maybe kick hard enough to slash her open with his back claws. It was one thing to have to pin down a pokemon that didn’t want to hurt their master on purpose. Pure psychics were notoriously physically weak, but even a frail Alakazam had a mouth full of teeth.

“I’d like to not have to resort to that, actually. I think you’re an intelligent being who deserves to have things explained to him and left to cooperate on his own terms.”

As Mewtwo paced, she watched his back paws flex with each step, giving a glimpse of partially-retracted claws. Yep, she could see those tearing her entrails out, whether he would intend it or not.

“Look,” how much more could she negotiate this? “I get it, you don’t want to feel any more vulnerable than you already are. I’m not doing this because I want to _hurt_ you.”

_“Then why do it?”_

Char sighed. Why _was_ she doing this? “Well. for one, I don’t want you to keep tearing your hands up anymore. Also, it’ll just be easier on you. No more scratching things up accidentally, no more snagging them on things….”

Mewtwo’s movements had an aggressive edge to them, forceful and jerky as he snarled in response. _“You just want to get me used to being treated like an animal.”_

“Nothing about this says you have to be treated like an animal. You can just sit down, like a _person,_ and have this done when you’re ready.”

Char patted the space next to her on the cot. Mewtwo hesitated, ears drawn back, the tip of his tail flicking in irritation.

_“... Will it hurt?”_

Char’s face threatened to break into a smile that she feared would seem patronizing. “You’re hardly gonna feel it, I promise.”

After a moment of contemplation, Mewtwo stalked over to her; his body low to the ground like a Persian cautiously sizing her up. Yet another strange, subconscious behavior that may have fit just as well on another pokemon.

It was surreal to be in this situation. Nothing about this pokemon screamed ‘legendary’ at Char; but there was something so _off_ about him, it more than made up for that. For all the animalistic behavior and body language she could recognize, there was something unmistakably human in the way he carried himself. More human than Nico. More human than some trainers she crossed before, even.

Mewtwo watched suspiciously as she rounded off the pointed tips of his nails, her grip on his fingers loose as to not make it feel forced. He calmed down considerably once he realized how trivial it was in the end. Char wondered if he thought she was going to rip them out, or something.

“See?” She mumbled gently to him, “Even humans have to do this once in a while.”

The pokemon just sniffed, twitched his broken whiskers, and pretended to ignore her.

Char didn’t bother with the back claws; she learned that lesson with Mercury long ago. Mewtwo rubbed the pad of his thumb across the freshly cut edges of his claws, now trimmed to look more like blunted, human fingernails.

_“These will take some getting used to.”_

“You did good today,” Char noted, appraisingly. Force of habit almost made her give him an affectionate pat on the shoulder, or a scritch on the scruff of the neck. That would no doubt be some sort of offense on his end. She found him not trying to ignore the meager praise, acknowledging it with a second of eye contact. Baby steps.

Baby steps.

“...Is it okay if i touch you?” She asked in a deliberate, even tone. The tone of voice she coaxed an Electrike out of the bushes with. The same carefulness from first trying to learn what her Makuhita was saying in his native language.

Mewtwo, whose apparently short life was devoid of being asked about personal space, tried to hide the sudden wave of nervousness that washed between them.

_“... Okay, but only this once.”_

He watched her hand like a hawk as it slowly went up to his face. Her thumb rubbed against his cheek. Her fingertips gently rubbed the thin fur at his jawline. When she reached under his chin, his eyes went wide, then slowly closed; lost in a moment of contentment. Some things really were universal with some pokemon, no matter how far removed they were from species she knew how to handle.

After that rare, peaceful instance, Mewtwo seemed to remember himself, and he flinched away like her hand was a knife aimed at his throat.

_“That’s enough. I would like to be left alone now.”_

Char could feel the fear that struck through him. As much as her instincts screamed otherwise, she needed to honor his personal space most of all. It was pretty much all he had left.

She left quietly, but amiably, and with a handful of clippings from possibly the strangest pokemon in the world. On the other side of the reinforced door, Bright held out a hazardous waste bag for them.

“... Thanks for that. It’s gonna be nice not to have to get stitches and a booster shot every time we have to work with him.”

The trainer gave him a side-eyed glare. “Don’t worry. He still has his teeth.”


	5. Chapter 5

Slowly but surely, it was starting to feel more like a training job, rather than breaking him in. Their visits became longer, as the skittish pokemon adjusted to his appointed trainer. It helped that she was about the only company he had. Char became accustomed to living underground, cooped up with Rocket members. It wasn’t like she had a choice. It was at least less grim than a hospital, but in the end, she was still in a cell, too. It was just bigger.

She and Mewtwo empathized with each other on that front, and they went from there. The bandages were finally removed from the pokemon’s head, revealing the three-pronged, flat device wrapping over the crown of his skull. He bitterly resented its effect on him, which he described as having someone deprive you of just enough oxygen to keep from suffocating you. Char didn’t doubt him for a second. Occasionally, she could feel where the ten percent allowance ended and the inhibitor’s power began, even in their empathetic bond.

That bond was proving useful. With Char’s ability to read him, along with their warming relationship, coaxing cooperation out of him improved steadily. The scientists were terrorized less, from the both of them. Plans for the actual training part of the job were being put into place. Not at a moment too soon, either; Giovanni was putting pressure on Nico, that he, in turn saddled on Char’s shoulders. She was meant to tame a destructive force into a usable weapon. It was high time she showed him what that meant.

 

_“This is utterly demeaning.”_

“Hey, I ain’t into this either, pal.”

_“I have never been so humiliated in my life.”_

“Oh, you’ll have plenty of new opportunities in the future.”

Char tried to make the collar as comfortable as she could for Mewtwo, threading it under the cord at the back of his neck. The only thing that seemed to make him sit still for it was the fear of injuring his delicate, bizarre anatomy by lashing out. Being leashed as they walked through the compound was a relatively small price to pay for the break in the monotony of imprisonment.

It was more of a symbolic gesture; a visual indicator to the nervous Rocket grunts that she had him under control. Char had barely gotten more than a migraine from the guy, but everyone else was acting like he was a nuclear meltdown waiting to happen. But she knew, from experience, you really shouldn’t underestimate a psychic. No matter what.

This was still a breakthrough development. Training him was what she was here for, after all. Getting him to cooperate enough to actually do so was step one in the game plan. The compound was equipped with a room large enough (and hopefully, sturdy enough) for a reasonably-sized battle. Maybe not enough room for sparring dragons, but enough for a few man-sized pokemon.

Gym stage lines had been painted in the center, and the overhead lights gave the bare-bones room a clinical look. Something about being underground made it feel especially barren, from a lack of windows. It just made Char miss the homey, personalized gym spaces she visited in her youth.

She dropped her bag next to the few benches set up against the wall. Nico was already there, eschewing the seats to float cross-legged a few feet in the air. Char rolled her eyes at the sight; she _knew_ him, and she knew he would rather sit in a seat like a person above all else. Showing off his abilities was his form of gloating towards the pokemon who couldn’t do more than speak. Bright, dressed for once in casual attire, shrank away from the intimidating psychic beside him.

Char gave them both a curt nod. “Afternoon, boys.”

Bright was the first to stand up to greet her, already going off on a spiel of faltering words. “Okay, so, I just have to warn you now: this is not my forte. I am _not_ a trainer. Couldn’t you have asked literally _anyone else?_ ”

“Oh, it’s not like we’re fighting for keeps or anything. I’ll go easy on ya.” Char waved him off, busy keeping an eye on the other end of her leash.

Mewtwo took in his surroundings; both relieved at being someplace roomier than his cell, and disappointed by how bleak this place also looked. He recognized the Alakazam, and Char could feel the anger begin to build up in him. _Hoo boy._

She made sure to put herself between the two of them as she leaned in to unclip his leash, blocking Nico from his line of sight to look him in the eye. “You’re doing good so far. Let’s not throw all that out the window, alright?”

Mewtwo stared daggers into the floor, instead. _“Fine.”_

Char knew she wouldn't be able to do this alone. Thank Arceus, she always had her assistant on hand. She popped a ball out and gave it a toss beside her.

The ground rumbled slightly as Yanna, all five hundred pounds of him, reconstituted. It took only seconds for him to get his bearings, see that he was surrounded by psychic types, and growl out his displeasure. Mewtwo could glean the translation from the Hariyama’s mind: **_"Spoon-benders."_ **

Nico’s whiskers twitched in distaste, not much happier to see him either. _“I see you’ve brought your brutish companion along, as well.”_

Yanna glared at him, but did nothing about it, choosing to cross his massive arms and be an imposing specter of discipline behind Char. His trainer gave Nico an admonishing look, stern enough to cow a Charizard.

“This was _your_ idea and it’s _your_ assignment, so please _act like it._ ”

Mewtwo watched the much larger Alakazam bristle, his carefully cultivated composure momentarily showing just a _sliver_ of contempt from being told off. Char moved on, not having any of this.

“We’re just going to be going over some basic rules, giving you an idea of what battling is in the League. Then maybe, _maybe_ we’ll let you fight on an even playing field.”

“Keyword being maybe!” Bright quickly reminded them, still staying firmly on the sidelines from them.

Mewtwo’s ears perked up at that. _“You’re going to let me fight? With this inhibitor on?”_

 _“Inhibitors can be turned off, you know.”_ Nico’s answer was smug, unwarranted, and felt about as pleasant as sandpaper against the other psychic’s mind.

“Well, we’re gonna have to turn it off _some day_ , doc.” Char gave Bright a glance over her shoulder, and shrugged off her jacket.

For a moment, Mewtwo’s eyes wandered down the stylized lines of two serpentine pokemon coiling around her arms. A Gyarados and an Onix; two equally dangerous pokemon symbolic of power and destructiveness. It was just enough of a distraction for him that he flinched when Nico’s presence became too close and overbearing for comfort. It was a prying, invasive feeling, and it only receded when Char caught their attention by beginning the lesson.

“You’re going to be fighting in a Gym kind of like this, and a Gym usually has a standard issue arena stage layout.” She pointed Mewtwo towards the lines on the floor. “Going outside the box here on your own is going out of bounds, but not when an opponent pushes you there. The line at the middle can be crossed in combat, but not between turns.”

She walked over to the middle line splitting the playing field, and pointed at the floor. “Yanna, in position.”

The Hariyama lumbered over, at stood at attention on one side of the line. Char continued. “Gym and sanctioned League battles go by a strict set of rules to minimize damage; you only attack at the command of the trainer, who takes turns with the opponent. Pokemon are limited to using a set of four attacks, and you can use one attack a turn. Am I forgetting anything?”

She turned to Yanna, who nodded solemnly and spoke aloud, knowing that the only the other pokemon would understand him. **"It is a** **_game_ ** **. A test. You are not meant to cause harm."**

 _“...On League grounds, that is.”_ Nico added, giving Char a knowing smirk in a forced manner Mewtwo found unnatural.

The trainer shrugged at that. “On the routes and off the books, the rules are played fast and loose. If at all. Let’s not get into that, though. Nicodemus; opposing position, please.”

Nico hesitated. _“What, you’re not going to send out the bird?”_

“I’m using two pokemon at his sapience level to show him how trainers work with intelligent pokemon. That’s why Bright’s here.” Char pointed with her thumb to the young man pointedly staying out of the conversation. Bright perked up from hearing his name like a rabbit hearing the cry of a hawk. He pointed to himself timidly.

Char nodded. “Yeah, you. Get over here.”

Bright looked like a kid picked last in gym as he obeyed her. Char nudged him in the elbow with the handle of her cane. “You remember the move set I gave you, right?”

Nico crossed his arms impudently. _“You have got to be kidding me. Does he even know how to strategize with psychic move sets?”_

“Well it’s not like this is a fuckin’ cup game, Nico!” Char groaned, exasperated.

Not a part of the increasingly heated conversation, Mewtwo was left to his own devices. Not that it meant much; it’s not like there was anything in the room worth noting, other than the three he would call his captors arguing over things he didn’t understand. And, the Hariyama.

The huge, thickset pokemon looked him over with a stern expression, narrowing his eyes suspiciously. **"What are you, some strange... dog?"**

Mewtwo’s ears flicked back in offense. _“I am_ **_not_ ** _! I’m…”_ He trailed off, uncertain, and a little embarrassed. _“Is that really important?”_

Yanna beckoned him over with a huge, meaty knuckle, away from the others who were more absorbed in their argument. Cautiously, Mewtwo padded over.

 **"That spoon-bender there,"** Yanna regarded Nico with particular, unhidden distaste, **"I hate him. I thought we were through with him after he evolved. He keeps coming back. Now I have to go easy on him, for Char. Were this a real fight, this would be an insult."**

Mewtwo considered what he could translate from the other pokemon’s thrumming, resonating speech. When he spoke of Char, the word was, literally, _‘charred’_ . As in burnt. _‘Spoon-bender’_ seemed to be more of an epithet than anything.

The Hariyama gave him another distrustful look, made much more intimidating from his proximity. **"I don’t want her around your type, but she told me you were different."**

 _“I’m...”_ Mewtwo considered his words carefully. _“I’m one of a kind, but iIm not like him.”_

Away from them, Char’s arguing echoed in the hollow room, sounding like a personal breakdown without the spoken voice of another. Mewtwo knew he could get the full idea of what was going on if he bothered to engage with Nico’s mind to hear him, but, well. That was the last thing he wanted to do, honestly. Yanna groaned, and sat himself down on the floor.

**"We may be here for a while."**

Mewtwo sat down as well, cross-legged on the tiles. _“Were you looking forward to fighting?”_

Yanna chuckled like two boulders being rubbed together, and rested his chin in the palm of his hand. **"She told me you were like a cub from the nest. You know nothing, not even how to fight."**

Mewtwo wrapped his tail around his legs defensively. _“I’m not a_ **_cub_ ** _. I can fight if I have to, I just don’t want to fight for_ **_them_ ** _.”_

He gestured towards Char and Bright. Yanna made a thoughtful rumble. **"I see. You are untrained. You think the game is forced upon us."**

_“Is it really a game to all of you?”_

**"Of course it’s a game,** **_makuhita_ ** **. It’s sparring. It measures our character. It draws us closer. It’s not just about** **_them_ ** **."**

Mewtwo would have spoken up about more than a few of his opinions on that if Char hadn’t turned her attention to them. As soon as she caught his eye, she snapped her fingers and pointed to the ground at her feet.

“‘Two! _To me_.”

Predictably, he hesitated. Yanna watched Mewtwo’s lack of reaction disapprovingly. **"That means you** **_go_ ** **to her."**

With the skitter of claws on tile, Mewtwo rushed nervously over.

“See?” Char gave Bright a smug, if not strained, smile. “He listens just fine. Stop worrying.”

The two humans guided him along to the sidelines, and left the other two pokemon to stay in their positions. Nico looked awkward standing on the other side of the line and facing his opponent, as if he was starkly out of his element. His confident air seemed to fizzle out from taking orders. Char sat herself down on a bench, and beckoned her charge to join her.

Mewtwo fiddled with his collar, feeling uncomfortable in so many aspects at the moment. At least next to the trainer, he could connect to some familiarity while he felt exposed in the new surroundings. Just how long had he been in that cell? When was the last time he even _saw_ another pokemon? Next to him, Char noticed his nervous, darting eyes, and gave him a light touch on the arm.

“Please listen,” she asked of him earnestly, “the more I’m out here teaching you means the longer you’ll get to stay out of that cell. Capisce?”

The clone watched Nico give an exaggerated, flourishing bow to mock Yanna’s simple, sincere greeting to his opponent. Beside him, Char let out a begrudgingly bemused _‘hmph’_ ; then called the match in her clear, commanding trainer voice.

“Alright, now this is just for show; neither of you have to do anything flashy or stupid. Just run a few rounds so he sees what he’s dealing with. Bright, you ready?”

Bright had deliberately taken a seat on the side of Char opposite of Mewtwo; on the very end of the bench, where he nodded vigorously before remembering to speak up. “Yes ma’am.”

Nico quickly tied his whiskers behind his head and out of the way. Char’s barked order was loud enough to make the inexperienced Mewtwo flinch.

“Yanna!! Fake out!”

“Psuh-Psywave!” Bright sputtered.

The Alakazam didn’t have time to react before the Hariyama clapped his enormous hands in front of his face. Nico stumbled backwards, surprised and freshly aggravated.

 _“Wh-_ **_Charlotte_ ** _! Do you have to open with that one_ **_every_ ** _time?”_

Char snickered, and Yanna seemed equally amused; though his ursine face only showed minimal emotion that went beyond his heavy-browed scowl.

“Its League strategy, pal; I always open with a flinch move!”

Nico quickly stood up straight, shaking the dark mane of his neck and chest to regain his composure. Yanna stood, hands at the ready in a defensive pose. The Alakazam glared at him, and focused his power into the palms of his hands.

“Yanna! Force Palm!”

The Hariyama aimed a broad, blocking hand towards Nico’s unstable beam of psy energy, taking the brunt of the attack with no more than a grunt. He then drew back his other hand, and slammed at the air with his open palm. A shockwave emanated from it, the force buffeting Nico’s lanky form. The wave travelled far enough to ruffle Char’s hair.

Mewtwo watched the battle play out with rapt attention, though he seemed to focus more on his fellow psychic, who openly flaunted the power he was deprived of. Nico levitated; flying gracefully to avoid more attacks ordered by Char. The reason psychic types were seen as the natural counter to fighters was very apparent. But, that didn’t seem to stop her or her pokemon.

Nico had a typing advantage, but his attacks were noticeably reckless, leading to as many misses as unavoided hits. Mewtwo noticed less from seeing the physical tells, and more from feeling the frustration radiate from the Alakazam.

_“He doesn’t fight very often, does he?”_

Char’s chin dimpled from the effort of not breaking into a smile. “Pshh. Don’t let him hear that.”

She leaned in closer, and whispered into his ear. “Just between you and me, he’s practically a housepet. All of his training went into gearing him up for a desk job with Giovanni.”

The chill that went through the clone didn’t go unnoticed. _“He works for… him?”_

“Bet he’ll talk your ear off about it, too.” Char leaned back casually on one hand, tossed a half-hearted command at Yanna, and let the experienced fighter do the rest.

Bright attempted a few more uncertain commands, but he quickly clammed up halfway in, watching Nico conduct himself personally. Char noticed; instead of him telling the pokemon what to do, it was probably the other way around. Nico’s petulance in battle hadn’t changed since the day they met.

Nico lifted his opponent with Telekinesis with ease, and slammed him to the ground. The room shook, and the fluorescent lights above swayed.

“Turn it _down_ a notch, Nico!” Char shouted his way. “Don’t forget: we got like fifty feet of ground above us!”

On the ground, the Hariyama propped himself back up with one hand, and glared at the floating Alakazam smugly looking down his muzzle at him. Nico crossed his arms and struck a proud, straight posture in the air. _“Had enough, old friend?”_

Yanna grumbled sourly. **"Insolent."**

Char clapped twice to grab their attention. “Alright that’s enough, showboater!”

Nico lowered himself to the floor gracefully, and did another obnoxious bow; purposefully ignoring the Hariyama behind him. Yanna was left to pick himself up off the floor, emanating resentment as he made his way to the sidelines. With a ground-shaking thud, he plopped down on the floor close to Mewtwo.

 **"Arrogant brat of an Kazam."** He quietly complained, and gently nudged the shoulder of the clone with a careful fingertip, grabbing his attention.

 **"Listen,** **_makuhita_ ** **: when the fight begins, you may be opponents; but when it ends, you must leave as equals. You tend to their wounds, you show your humility.** **_You do not gloat for the sake of a female._ ** **"**

He nodded towards where Nico stood. The Alakazam’s eyes were fixed on Char. She maintained eye contact with him; they were communicating, privately. Their connection ended with a sour look on Char’s face, gone as quickly as it came as she turned to Mewtwo.

“So, you see? It’s not brutality if you’re playing by the rules. It’s mostly just showin’ off and strategy. The League doesn’t let their battles result in anything worse than mild injuries.”

Mewtwo’s ears flattened against his head. _“What happens when you don’t play by the rules?”_

Behind him, Yanna softly chuckled under his breath. Nico put his hands on his hips, and shook his head in a deliberately mocking fashion.

The question of whether or not Mewtwo was going to fight was apparently still up for debate. He could only hear a fraction of the conversation, between the hushed whispering between the humans and the telepathy he wasn’t privy to. He had become used to being left out of the big picture long ago; so he sullenly sat on the bench, and waited to be told what to do.

It really wasn’t much different here than it was on New Island. The same bare, white rooms. The same medical tests. The same fearful, and sometimes disdainful looks from the humans around him. The only real difference was that there was less to do, now. The education, recreation and socialization they gave him stopped when he stopped being raised like a person. Now he was just a pokemon; and pokemon sat at the heels of their human masters, and waited to be useful again.

He could hear them pitching percentages to set his inhibitor at each other. At what point would he start being dangerous? Fifty percent? Fifteen percent? This really was no different than the old lab, where they forbade him to do much more than a bit of hovering or telekinesis. Mewtwo recognized now that back then, he was easier to control because of his naivety. In a way, he wished he was still that naive, if only so they’d trust him more. At last, Char walked over and motioned him to see her privately, stepping away from the others. 

“We all want you weaned off that inhibitor, you know.” Her words sounded more like a placation than the truth. “I got you up to twenty-five this time, just for this session. If you show you can behave-”

 _“-If I show I can behave, I might get some freedom back. Yes. I know.”_ Mewtwo lowered his eyes, a back paw kneading at the tiling of the floor as the now-familiar pins and needles sensation began to resurface. Char had been up and about for too long again, and her own pain was starting to become noticeable.

 _“Hey,”_ Char gave his chin a light touch, prompting him to glare into her eyes to concentrate on their connection. _“Don’t start this today, okay? I know. I’m fighting this, too.”_

The voice of Char’s mind was weaker than his, as a human. With the inhibitor on, trying to focus on it gave him a dull pang of a headache. She brushed her fingers against his forearm, and trailed down to loosely take his hand.

Mewtwo stayed in place as her gentle grasp became a somewhat more insistent tug. _“I don’t think I want to fight.”_

Char glanced behind her, at the scientist and the Alakazam waiting on them. Or rather, they were waiting on her to get her pokemon under control. She gave Mewtwo an apologetic look, took a deep breath, and sunk deeper into his mind; lest any of their conversation be picked up by the other psychic in the room.

_“I know. You’re not being violent, you’re just showing off your abilities. We’ll talk about this later, alright? Right now we both have people breathing down our neck here.”_

She motioned behind her with a shift of her eyes, towards Nico. The Alakazam’s dark-fringed arms were crossed impatiently, watching them like a hawk.

Slowly, Char guided Mewtwo with a hand on his shoulder, sweetening the deal by reaching up to give the nape of his neck an approving rub. She felt him shiver beneath her hand; ever since she found that spot, she quickly added it to her arsenal of positive reinforcement tactics. Unsurprisingly, simple affection was a good motivator for a lonely and neglected pokemon.

Among other things, Mewtwo wasn’t looking forward to having the inhibitor opened up to change the frequency again. Having the device fastened to his head was uncomfortable enough without feeling every minute movement of tools and fingertips against his skull. It was almost a relief to see Nico stop Bright before he could reach the clone, toolkit in hand.

 _“Really now, I think our friend has had enough clumsy human hands so close to his brain.”_ The Alakazam put a large, two-fingered hand on the man’s shoulder. Bright paled, and the tall pokemon leaned down close enough for his snout to brush against the side of his head, mimicking a whisper in his ear.

_“What will you do when it decides to run amok again? Are you just going to ask it to politely turn around and let you adjust the inhibitor by hand?”_

“No, sir.” Bright mumbled under his breath. In a smooth motion, Nico held out his hand, and flicked his wrist, like swatting away a fly. 

The air pressure around Mewtwo changed so quickly, his ears popped; making him flinch before the pain could properly set in. A sharp, radiating pain made it feel like the device in his skull was short-circuiting, sending a shock of agony through both ends of his bifurcated spinal cord. Mewtwo whimpered pitifully, and clutched the inhibitor like it was trying to wrench itself from his skull.

When the faded edges of his vision filled in again, and the searing pain ebbed into a dull ache, Mewtwo was brought to his knees on the floor, and he vaguely felt hands on his shoulders. Through the fading ringing in his ears, he heard the sudden, upset arguing that sparked during his blackout as though it was underwater. When the world came into focus, again, a harried-looking Char was holding a cloth to his bloody nose.

“ _Son of a bitch_ Nicodemus, you’re supposed to _wean_ him off of it; are you trying to give him a fuckin’ stroke?!”

 _“If I didn’t know he could handle it, I wouldn’t have done it.”_ There was something more sinister in Nico’s words, hidden under a gauzy veneer of confidence. The Alakazam honed in on Mewtwo’s strengthening presence easily, ears perking up at the clone opening his eyes. He held out his hand for him to take.

_“Now, doesn’t that feel better? Feels like you can finally breathe again, doesn’t it?”_

Mewtwo was helped to his uncertain feet. The headache was letting up as his brain adjusted to its own power again, however little a percentage. _“I thought using your powers to turn those things off wasn’t possible.”_

 _“It’s my own design, so of course I gave it a failsafe. Only my power signature can manipulate it.”_ Nico’s pride at his own work was palpable, adding texture to a psychic presence now made crystal clear. Nico didn’t make an attempt to hide the sadistic glee in hurting him, nor the boasting behind reveal that he made the device that tortured him. Mewtwo had expected this from Giovanni, but not from another pokemon.

“You should be able to use your abilities again to an extent.” Bright explained. “Try flying, or something.”

Mewtwo perked up, and after a moment of consideration, pushed himself off the ground with his feet. With a little concentration, he managed to hover uneasily a few inches in the air. Joy dawned in his face, and the instinct of flight came back to him, at last. It was as simple and natural as breathing, once. Now, it was a privilege. 

They allowed him a few minutes to reacquaint himself with his abilities; watching as he did a few laps around the room, ending in a few flips for good measure. It wasn’t quite as satisfying as the fresh outside air running through his fur, or the exhilaration of flying high enough to look down on the world laid out before him, but it was something. A piece of himself was given back to him. His excitement was infectious, and Nico observed Char’s reaction as she smiled at the clone in the air. 

_“What do you think, is he ready to start fighting?”_

Char’s smile fell into a scowl. “For fuck’s sake, let him just have this for once. Don’t you remember when we had _you_ collared?”

Nico sniffed dismissively. _“I remember you taking it off of me as soon as we left the base. He doesn’t get that kind of permissiveness; his power is something we should approach with caution, and use sparingly.”_

Char watched Mewtwo somersault happily in the air, narrowly missing bumping into the lights overhead. This was probably the happiest she had ever seen him.

“Fine. Just… go easy on him, alright? You’re a sore winner and he doesn’t need that.”

 _“Oh, please.”_ Nico scoffed. _“Team Rocket doesn’t reward sportsmanship.”_

 

“Alright,” Char put on her commanding tone, standing between the two psychics. “This is just a spar; ‘Two doesn’t know any moves right now, so we can’t hold it against him. Let’s just stick to freeform attacks, psy only. Nothing physical. Got it?”

Nico adjusted the whiskers tied into his mane. _“Crystal clear, ma’am.”_

Mewtwo looked down at his feet, both squarely on the ground. _“I’ll do my best.”_

Char stepped into his personal space, and sent some last-minute advice disguised as giving him an encouraging scratch. _“Remember: psy-on-psy battles can be a stalemate if you focus on trying to read his mind for tells. Expect him to do that to you; misdirect him, get him to lose focus. You saw how he fought earlier, yeah?”_

Not wanting to let on what he was told, Mewtwo simply straightened his posture and engaged defiant eye contact with his opponent. The Alakazam did the same, making sure to rear up to his full height imposingly.

_“Don’t worry; I won’t embarrass you in front of her.”_

Char snapped her fingers, and the two pokemon braced themselves. Nico was first to strike, focusing a psywave that chased down mewtwo as he took to the air to dodge. Being struck by it was painful; setting his nerve endings on fire, and making his muscles seize up in response.

Mewtwo made sure to strategize loudly within his mind, sounding a bit timid to drive it home. Making it sound like he just wanted to keep dodging and avoiding having to fight back. It must have worked as Char said, because it spurred Nico on to fling shocks of energy at him more frequently, giving into the chase the other pokemon was leading him into.

On the ground, Char watched the two with a stern grimace, befitting a trainer whose pokemon was being put to the test. Bright, beside her, winced whenever one of them was hit with a blast of energy, or knocked against the walls. Yanna let out a soft grunt, watching the battle above them with minimal interest.

**“I hope the dog tears his whiskers out.”**

_“Yanna!”_ Char hissed back. “Be _nice_. I’m pretty cure ‘Two’s a cat, anyways.”

The Hariyama grumbled bitterly in response, leaving Bright gawking confusedly at the both of them.

Above them, Mewtwo tested Char’s advice, and caught Nico off guard long enough to shove him against the wall with the force of his telekinesis. The Alakazam growled in pain, and didn’t bother hiding his growing frustration.

 _“You’ve got nowhere to run anymore, you know! Face me like an equal,_ **_mutant!_ ** _”_

Mewtwo fought against an attempt to hold him in place with telekinesis, struggling against invisible bonds. _“I’m not a mutant!”_

Nico breathed heavily with effort, and focused his power by closing his fist. _“Oh really? I’ve seen your genetic code. Only a fraction of you is Mew; you don’t even_ **_look_ ** _like the creature they were meant to make.”_

 _“That’s not true!”_ The breath was being forced out of Mewtwo’s lungs as the Alakazam attempted to crush his ribcage. Nico continued taunting relentlessly, hooking into the insecurity he found with clear glee.

_“That’s what you wanted to cover up, isn’t it? They must have realized their mistake, if you had to kill them so suddenly-”_

A globe of power formed around Mewtwo, and expanded; hitting Nico in the process. The solid forcefield slammed him back against the wall, and the room shook from the barrier hitting all sides of the room in a swift wave. On the ground, Yanna had taken initiative, and bodyblocked the brunt of the barrier from the humans behind him in the nick of time. 

In the air, Mewtwo felt his heart hammer in his chest, the cord at his neck throbbing painfully in time with his pulse with the effort of giving his brain oxygen. The inhibitor was a burning hot poker against his skull. In his head, Nico was laughing, even if blood was starting to trickle out of the Alakazam’s nose from his own psychic efforts.

_“You’re defective, aren’t you? That’s what you were trying to hide! I knew it!”_

Mewtwo whimpered from the pain, but his eyes still glowed furiously, unable to quell his anger. Power and agony equally coursed through him; and just as quickly, was snuffed out with a flick of Nico’s hand.

Gravity suddenly welcomed him back with open arms, and sent him careening to the floor. Char’s faint shouting in the distance was the last thing he heard before everything went black.


	6. Chapter 6

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW: blood, gore, generally traumatic and violent descriptions]

_“You were right,”_ Nico’s voice was faint to match his wavering consciousness. _“They must have been planning to develop an improved specimen that it found out about.”_

“Hey, don’t strain yourself. We’ll talk about this with the boss later.” Bright adjusted the IV drip beside the pokemon, and did another once-over of the vitals displaying on the monitor close by. It wasn’t unheard of for sapient pokemon to request being treated by hand, even if data reconfiguration was considered faster and easier. Bright had heard that being reduced to raw information was… unpleasant.

Fitting poorly in the hospital bed meant for a human several feet shorter, the Alakazam couldn’t simply let himself rest. Even if he was injured by it, his plan worked out perfectly; proving once again he was the superior pokemon under Giovanni’s control. In more ways than one. If he could fly over to Viridian City just to reveal his information in person, he would, but even the thought of flying gave him a headache. In many cases, overextending oneself as a psychic meant dying from it. Having to spend the night in the infirmary for observation was getting off remarkably easy.

Nico could feel the painkillers finally ebb away his migraine, and not a moment too soon. _“I can’t say I really blame it, you know. If I knew I was being replaced, murder is probably the least gruesome thing I could do.”_

Bright forced out a quiet, nervous laugh, and dimmed the lights for the night. A faint tug on his labcoat stopped him, as Nico held a hand up.

_“Don’t breathe a word of this to Char. I want to see what he tells her, first.”_

“Right.”

* * *

 

Throughout the evening, Char checked in on an unconscious Mewtwo from the observation room. At least while he was sedated, she no longer felt the agonizing feedback from his own overuse of his powers. Now, there was just the lingering overtaxed feeling left by her panic. The dull, drained sensation of going back to living your life after a traumatic experience. Char was tired of it. She was tired of losing pokemon.

Nico only got off with a bump on the head and arrhythmia from exhausting himself, a common physical issue that came with his species. Psychic types were fragile, and battling was a level of exertion many weren’t meant to do in the first place. From what she understood, that was why Mewtwo needed that second spinal cord.

She was about to doze off herself in the darkness of the observation room, when seeing him stir out of the corner of her eye made her spring up; eager to see if he was alright and put her mind at ease. He was bruised, battered, and sedated, hooked up to the equipment they wheeled into the room. Opening his eyes, he scowled at the familiarity of the situation.

The heavy clunk of the door closing jarred him out of his lull, only to settle back down upon seeing his visitor. Char put on a tired smile for him. “I see they got you on the good shit, huh.”

Mewtwo’s thoughts sounded like they were struggling to stay coherent for her. _“Why. You want some?”_

She snickered, and the tension she brought with her began to finally fade.

The two of them too tired and sore to say much, Char simply half-collapsed onto the sliver of space next to him. He didn’t shy away from her closeness anymore, though she attributed that to the painkillers they had him on. Without a cohesive voice to speak with, Mewtwo still conveyed the desire for the warmth of her company.

Worry still hounded Char, not unlike the dull ache of her knee, but at least that was one thing she could do something about. She pulled her leg off, and hiked the empty pantleg up to her thigh to take off a knee brace. It helped for long days like this, but at the end of them she couldn’t wait to let her skin breathe again. This was about to be yet another thing she would have to get used to dealing with all the damn time, wasn’t it?

Mewtwo watched the entire time, though that was probably a generous term with his current lucidity. With some difficulty, he managed to ask, _“What happened?”_

Char reached behind her to give his furrowed brow a scratch. “Already told you what happened, pal. Go back to sleep.”

 _“No, no, I mean…”_ Mewtwo waved his hand sleepily, as if he could coax complete sentences back into himself. _“What happened after it. Tell me a story, I can’t sleep.”_

“Tell you a story, huh.” Char settled back down to meet his unfocused eyes. She stayed still as the clone inched forward enough to brush his forehead against hers. It felt like some static discharge passed between them at first, before the intensity of their connection came into focus. Char felt numb where needles were supposed to be stuck into an injection site that wasn’t hers. Her head ached; dull and unrelenting like her worsening knee, with only the edge taken off of it from the drugs. They said that close proximity was just a placebo with psychic connection, but maybe there was something to it after all.

“Well, where do I begin?” Char mumbled, and searched for the memories she associated with the pain she felt.

* * *

 

Charlotte had never seen this much blood in her life; exaggerated by the cloud of dark red spreading through the water next to her. Slowly, the pool in the cave was growing still as the thoroughly mauled body of a Sharpedo floated idly, almost serenely. It was hard to tell how much blood was hers, or its, but it felt like it all came from her alone.

Next to her, Mercury was waterlogged, and exhausted. Soaked to the bone, when he shouldn’t be in the first place. Combusken couldn’t swim, but that didn’t matter to him. He only knew she was being attacked. The adolescent Makuhita, who had never listened to a word she said before, had taken it upon himself to tie off the remainder of her leg. However much that was. She was afraid to look. No matter where she looked she saw red, so she chose to dully stare up at the ceiling, and savor every breath she could still make.

She didn’t even make it to her third gym badge. She didn’t get to fight Dad. She didn’t get to meet Flannery in person. There were so many things she wanted to do, but for now, all she could do was sleep.

 

Charlotte awoke from hearing the upset screeching of a Combusken not getting his way. Her Makuhita was physically restraining it, stone-faced while letting the bird tire himself out. It took a moment for her to realize it was because someone was moving her through the cave. Very large hands lifted her like she was nothing into the glaring sunlight. A few humans in ranger getups were at the mouth of the cave to meet their Hariyama partner. Their Rural Response vehicle already had the back open, stretcher at the ready.

Mercury didn’t realize that was a good thing, and he screamed and screamed and _screamed_ until his trainer very weakly said “ _T’me,_ ” and the obedience she worked so hard to cultivate in him finally kicked back in. The rangers let her pokemon stay with her, thankfully. Unlike the people in the city, they knew how important it was to have your team with you. The medic that sat in with them tried to address the situation as the van began to move; checking Charlotte’s alertness, shining a light into her eyes and finding her lucid. 

“Hey, stay with us, alright? You’re doing great. What’s your name?”

Charlotte’s addled mind fumbled with the information she was taught to say, in worst-case scenarios like this. “Charlotte Jessop... from Littleroot… blood type A. ‘T was a pokemon attack… it was trained, not wild.”

There was an unspoken relief at the succinctness of her words. The medic began applying a more skillful tourniquet. “Good, good, keep talking, sweetheart. So who’s your pokemon? You on the gym circuit?”

“Uh-huh.” Charlotte attempted to swallow with a dry throat. Ironic, considering all the water. “Merc’ry’s the Torchi- Combusken. Yanna’s the Makie. They saved me.”

The medic continued to go down the checklist of protocol with barely so much as eye contact in the rush to work with what she had, but still briefly gave her patient a slightly stressed smile.

“And they did a wonderful job. You’re very lucky, Charlotte.”

* * *

 

“...Things were a blur after that. Lots of doctors, hospital rooms, a few reporters. Some ranger authorities. Mom n’ Dad. Most boring trauma of my life honestly, all I did was sit around.”

Mewtwo, thankfully, seemed to be too drugged to be shaken by the visceral memories she shared, but there was a grim acknowledgment in his eyes. His own memories had rough, raw visions of bloody water, but they also involved broken glass and panicked shouting. Faint memories of a heart monitor flatlining from a sudden disconnection rang between them.

Char took advantage of his calmer state of reflection to gently pry. “So, what happened with you? You got any cool scars?”

 _“Not really,”_ Mewtwo’s response was weak, but the memories had sickening detail. Sluggishly, He guided her hand behind him to brush up against a faint indentation beneath his shoulder blades, over his ribs. _“I got these. From the life support.”_

Words failing him, he opted to nuzzle his brow against hers, inadvertently bumping noses like an overzealous cat seeking attention.

* * *

 

Once in a while, its eyelids would flutter briefly before the darkness took it once again. Every time it did, what it saw became a little clearer. It wanted to see a little bit more. There was a strange sense of understanding of its situation, but until now, it had never wanted to know what was Outside. Just like it never had reason to acknowledge that it was Inside.

And Inside was getting smaller, and smaller. Its entire world was shrinking. Eventually, it felt the ends of its world brush against it, and for the first time, it experienced the sensation of touch. And, frankly, that startled it so badly its entire world fell apart.

The moment was a cacophonous nightmare of overstimulation, granting it each and every one of its senses through a baptism of terror. The pain of various tubes and electrodes ripping out of its skin. Feeling the cold, hard and unforgiving ground. The taste of its own blood in its mouth. The overwhelming loudness of everything as its ears adjusted to hearing for the first time. Its eyes, unused to being exposed to air, couldn’t even take in the Outside it desired without shutting them tightly again out of pain. Around it, people began to surround it and the pool of bloody liquid laced with broken glass that spread over the cold floor.

 

It had never dreamed, until then. It had no reason to. Now, floating in the crackling, living darkness, it wished it could dream of when it was Inside again. It had to be better than this. This was Hell; something it couldn’t have possibly known about, let alone understood. But it did, and it acknowledged that wherever they were, they weren’t supposed to be here. Nothing was. This was something else’s domain; something else’s prison. Something else’s gestation tank. The broken thing it was watching was merely a trespasser.

Millions of red eyes acknowledged the existence the trespasser weakly held onto, and dismissively sent it back into the waking world.

Finally, its eyes would not sear in pain when it opened them. Now it was just the blinding light that hurt. The painful whiteness made the vivid redness contrast in a way that would have been beautiful, if it wasn’t its own. Worse yet, it wasn’t all red. Some of it was white. Pink. Sickly yellow. Above it, pairs of eyes widened with abject horror. The sound of metal clanged to the floor somewhere below it. Somebody spoke; voice cracking with terror, revulsion and shock.

_“He’s still fucking alive.”_

* * *

 

Char jolted out of the connection with a shiver. Her hands were numb, shaking, and held tightly onto Mewtwo’s, like he was keeping her from falling into the abyss.

Or rather, off the edge of the bed. She nearly did so from the slightest attempt at readjusting herself, and the two of them jolted into action to drag her towards the center again. The suddenness of the moment had a mercifully tension-breaking effect; leaving them both laughing from the whiplash between different kinds of fear. 

Char was exhausted and stiff, and now she felt like she ran a marathon on top of that. She wicked unwanted wetness from the corner of her eye. “Shit, dude, what the _fuck_ was that?”

 _“Well, you wanted to know what happened.”_ Mewtwo sounded slightly clearer now, as if the memories shared had sobered him somewhat. He began to carefully free himself of his connections to the IV drip and monitors beside them. Char would have halfheartedly advised against it, but she already had more than a few moments of doing that, herself. No sense being hypocritical around a mindreader.

“I just thought I was gonna see something like you being all _‘where am I? Who am I? What is my purpose?’_ Not… _that_.”

_“I don’t know if that would have been much better.”_

He stiffened when Char leaned over him, a hand on his chest. Her fingers parted the fur along his collarbone, searching.

“Oh, I see. They ran you through reconfig, afterwards. Shame, that would have been one hell of a cool scar.”

Mewtwo put a tentative hand over his chest as well, and appreciated the fact that the flesh was intact. _“I’m glad it didn’t scar. I don’t want to be reminded of it all the time.”_

“You get used to it.” There was melancholy in Char’s smile, before something dawned on her. She laid down on her back in order to hike her shirt up on one side.

She gave him a peek at three deep, gnarled grooves of claw marks that took up a significant part of her right side. The flesh around it was ruined and dark, having healed poorly. A tattoo of a Skarmory on her chest was partially damaged by its extensiveness. Mewtwo’s eyes widened briefly, and Char chuckled.

“Gnarly, huh? Got grabbed by an Altaria a few years back, tore me all to hell. I was out of supplies, and too far away from anything, so I had to use some of the sprays I kept for my team. Turns out, there’s a reason they’re marked ‘not for human use’. So, you’re lucky you guys get data reconfiguration.”

_“Does it hurt?”_

“Nah, man. Those nerves are shot.” She really didn’t feel anything but a dull sensation from her own fingers running down the length of the scars. The numbness made it easier to ignore than some other injuries, but looking at  it put it into perspective for her, sometimes.

Curiously, Mewtwo made as if to touch the injury, only to flinch his hand away at the last minute, his thoughts suddenly deeply flustered. _“Oh that’s, that’s normally where you’d have--”_

“Yeah, that’s my tit, buddy.” Char laughed again, and pulled her shirt down. “You know, it feels good to look back on shit and acknowledge that yeah, it was awful, but you’re still alive, so who’s laughing now?”

Mewtwo chuckled aloud, with a tone that sounded unlike the voice Char heard in her head. His eyes caught hers for a moment, and he went silent; pensively looking down at the dark pads of his fingers.

 _“I never told anyone about what happened until now. I just didn’t think anyone would understand. I wasn’t born a person, I had to_ **_convince_ ** _myself I was one; how do you explain that to everyone else?”_

“Well,” Char slipped a hand under the loop of his neck cord, and gently massaged just under the back of his skull. “I can’t say I’ll ever truly understand it, but if what you showed me was just a taste of what it was like, you’re one tough son of a bitch.”

Mewtwo smiled in that uncannily human way, his eyes closing serenely as he arched into her hand. Char felt a sense of pride with his progress; they meshed well and were developing stronger communication, as any good trainer pairing should. His level of intelligence and sapience made that concept fuzzy, though. Could a pokemon who was also a person ever be truly trained? According to the League, anything that wasn’t human was a pokemon. And every pokemon was submissive to the dominion of humanity.

Char considered that age old question for a moment. The one she started asking as far back as before she started training. Wondering why Makuhita didn’t go to school like she did, wondering why the nice Kadabra at the Petalburg Outfitters wore a distinct metal collar. As she grew older she became inured to it, even became complicit. What could you do? The world was run by the same people that started all those wars, and passed all those complicated laws, and turned ‘sapience’ into a strange, untrustworthy word. Now they made a sapient pokemon, a _human_ pokemon, no matter how you looked at him.

Something about all this was strange, and she couldn’t quite put her finger on it. Giovanni had a simple plan in mind for Mewtwo, befitting of his ongoing grasp of that fleeting feeling, _‘power’_ . But Mewtwo had to have been a part of something more. You don’t just clone a _god_ and stick them in a gym for the rest of their life.

Mewtwo noticed how her thoughts became dark and withdrawn as they lay together in quiet, restful company. He hesitated on grabbing her attention, but still ended up catching her eye anyway with his growing nervousness. Char blinked towards the ceiling, searching for a way to word what she felt.

“Y’know, it’s weird that Giovanni had them make a pokemon that’s pretty much a person. He’s the type to throw a hissy fit if his Alakazam wears clothes; what did he have in mind making you, when he knew you’d be a pain in the ass for him to tame?”

Mewtwo stirred uncomfortably. _“He wasn’t the one who ordered them to make me. He bought them out to own me.”_

“...No shit? How do you know that?”

If he wasn’t already snow white, he would have paled as he thought of the answer she knew he had. A deeply mortified feeling began to sour the comfort of their connection. Char felt her heartbeat begin to pick up alongside his.

 _“Can I tell you a secret?”_ Mewtwo’s ears were flat against his head, eyes wide like he had just seen a Gengar in her shadow. _“Promise not to tell anybody else.”_

“Sure, hit me.”

He leaned in close again, but this time the intimacy wasn’t for the ease of sharing memories, as his thoughts silently pleaded for the basic comfort of her trust and protection.

 _“I’m not the one they were supposed to make.”_ He shivered, but slowly stilled himself as Char draped an arm across his back.

_“They didn’t think I was going to survive once I left the tank. They were going to cut me open, find out what they did wrong with me, and try it again.”_

Char breathed out a quiet _“fuck,”_ as puzzle pieces regarding the earlier fight were quickly falling into place. How quickly he went into a panic, then a rage; how strangely calm and quiet Nico was over the mishap.

 _“If Giovanni finds out, he’ll kill me. He’ll throw me away. I’m not the most powerful pokemon in the world, I'm a failure, a freak, a-”_ Mewtwo winced, and held his head as the inhibitor cut off a panic-induced flux of his power.

“Hey… _hey_ ,” Char brought him to her chest and tightened her hold on him, feeling the raggedness of his breaths tremble against her. “That’s not going to happen, alright? Why would they trash you when they worked on you for years?”

Mewtwo’s eyes were fearful and downcast as he pulled away from her somewhat, gathering the shreds of his composure.

 _“They had plans in place. They had a whole other part of the lab, all these suppressor fields to keep me from finding out, all those shielding devices that they said was for my own good. What was I_ **_supposed_ ** _to think?”_

An ice-cold feeling settled in the pit of Char’s stomach, and she couldn’t tell who it originally came from. “That’s why you-”

 **_“I had to.”_ ** Blunted claws gripped fistfuls of her jacket sleeves. Mewtwo had a manic, desperate look in his eyes.

 _“Do you think I_ **_enjoyed_ ** _killing them? Do you think I_ **_wanted_ ** _to? I had to do_ **_something_ ** _to survive. I had to make sure nothing about their perfected design would reach the mainland. Char, I don’t... I don’t want to be replaced.”_

“You’re _not_ going to be replaced,” Char kept her voice soft and calm, “look at all this. Look at what they’re doing to keep you in here. You really think they’re going to throw all that out the window?”

 _“I don’t think they have a choice, now.”_ Mewtwo allowed himself a single, sardonic chuckle, belying the mortified look on his face as he remembered bodies limp on the floor. Unscathed. Quick, merciful deaths.

The silence around them was tense, and empty. Char’s ears rang without sound to occupy them. Mewtwo withdrew from her entirely, and had huddled up into a sad ball of thin fur and bruised ribs. His sigh was heavy, and tinged with a sorrowful whine.

_“They lied to me about so many things. I’m not perfect, I’m not an achievement, I’m not even wholly Mew. I don’t know what I am anymore. I don’t know what my purpose is, other than to go along with Giovanni’s plan. If that means I’ll stay alive, does that make it all worth it in the end?”_

He looked to her for answers he knew full well she didn’t have. Char’s eyes were dark, turned away from him in quiet contemplation. She knew where she heard this before. She had this discussion before, on not too dissimilar terms.

_‘You’re jealous.’_

_‘Of course I am; I’m being replaced.’_

* * *

 

Char limped in a dead man’s walk into the infirmary, red-eyed and chilled to the bone from feeling the brunt of Mewtwo’s existential terror. She wanted desperately to not have to sleep alone.

Nico looked out of it, sprawled on the hospital bed. Mouth open, tongue lolling, whiskers tied up into manageable little knots. _Very_ majestic, of course. It felt like such a simpler time, training him. She missed when her assignment was more straightforward, and their relationship was less complicated. 

She felt a twinge of acknowledgment stir in him as she tried to crawl carefully into his arms; and was met with a clumsy pat on the head and a helpful telekinetic lift to ease her journey. His presence was somewhat lethargic, but warm.

_“I was wondering when you’d come in.”_

“Sorry.” Char huffed a hot breath into his chest fur, and willed herself to finally relax.

“...I don’t want to do this anymore.”

She felt fingers gently massage her scalp. _“I know.”_

The Alakazam adjusted to better face her, getting her to look into his eyes in a moment of surprising earnestness.

_“Look, if you want out, I can get you out. Giovanni won’t pay you, but I can move some money around. He won’t even notice.”_

Char gave him a similar look, edged with dire seriousness. “That’s not what I mean. I’m not standing for this anymore. I’m not going to sit by and watch him go through this.”

Nico seemed taken aback, for all of a moment. His eyes narrowed slyly. _“I see. So you’re going to bust him out?”_

“Look,” Char touched the side of his face briefly, as if the contact would transfer some deeper capacity for empathy to him. “I know where your loyalties lie, but. I know you want nothing more than to not be replaced. I know you want purpose. We can _help_ each other.”

 _“We, huh.”_ Nico repeated with a somber tone. He studied her for a moment, his own thoughts carefully guarded from her ability to connect, and no doubt adding to her mounting desperation. His fingers traced a tender line up her cheek, her temple, then her hairline, and paused.

_“I’m afraid our motivations don’t line up.”_

He was too fast for her to flinch away, grabbing her skull firmly with both hands and holding her still for the seconds it would take for his control to kick in. She barely managed to struggle, eyes briefly acknowledging what he was doing with profound horror before they rolled into the back of her head. Nico concentrated, and took in every last drop of the information he sought.

Emotions were sifted through and pinpointed, and he sought out the memories associated with them. Mental imagery was compiled, conversations were recorded, and everything was packed away neatly into his perfectly organized capacity for memory. He took out the obvious, glaring problem bits she couldn’t get away with knowing, and stitched together a hazy, doctored summary for her to look back on. A few details were changed while he was in there as well. Not _many_ , just a few he didn’t quite approve of.

In his hands, Char was small and delicate. Humanity was so fragile. Their brains were so simple, and easy to work with. Not like the nightmare that would be sifting through that mutant’s mind himself. It’s so much _easier_ to get a human to do your dirty work, even better when they had just enough rudimentary power to be moderately useful.

When he was done, Char was out like a light, slumped into his telekinetic hold. She better appreciate the best sleep she’s probably had since getting here. Nico rested her against his chest, and gave her hair an affectionate ruffle.

_“Thank you, dearest. You’ve been such a big help.”_

And with that, Nicodemus laid back, closed his eyes, and went to sleep with a conscience that was crystal clear.


	7. Chapter 7

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> [TW: abuse; Giovanni]

Char awoke to a pounding head, and Nico’s admonishment greeting her reemergence into the waking world.

_“Somebody forgot their meds last night and fainted.”_

She groaned at the patronizing tone, and turned over to muffle her groans into the Alakazam’s chest. “Nobody saw, right?”

 _“Bright found you in the lab, you seemed to have hit your head.”_ Concern colored Nico’s thoughts, and the headache started to make more sense. So did the gap in her memories. Char’s recollection was hazy; last thing she remembered, she was watching over Mewtwo as he fell asleep.

She could feel Nico’s eyes on her as she groggily sat up, and rummaged through the bag of medicine she kept close at hand.

_“You still taking those mood stabilizers?”_

“Nah,” Char answered before swallowing several prescriptions at once, and paused to choke down the remainder of a water bottle. “Didn’t like what they were doing to me. I want to be functional, not a walking corpse, y’know? They got me on an SNRI and this uh, experimental thing. Supposed to help psy damage.”

Nico’s eyes narrowed, the impenetrable barrier guarding his thoughts making those expressions all the more disconcerting. _“I guess that’s where the rest of the money went.”_

“That and Clover’s funeral. Funny how the League stopped being interested in my case when I stopped being a cute trainer kid, huh?”

_“I’m guessing they didn’t plan on you surviving to become a jaded adult?”_

“I know I sure didn’t.” Char looked at the collection of pill bottles she had amassed. Some of them were old and empty, others were medications they put her on that she simply stopped taking, dissatisfied with side effects that just made her more miserable.

Nico scooted closer to her, and nuzzled against her unbrushed curls. _“If nothing else, I’m glad you did. What would I do without you?”_

The admission made the heat rise in Char’s face, and made the little bag in her hand jitter noisily from an unsteady grip. Nico seemed to notice the sort of power he had over her with words like that, and she knew he must delight in it.

 _“So,”_ Nico announced finally, after the morning ritual of medication was finished, _“do you want the good news, or the bad news?”_

Char shrugged briefly after pulling on a fresh shirt. “Bad news, I guess.”

_“We’ll be expecting a visit from the boss soon.”_

“Aw, mother _fucker_.” Char’s curse sounded particularly tired, inured to the inevitability. He watched the way she paused, holding her aching head as the scramble to process what she’d have to do began inside it. To Nico’s displeasure, all he could hear her think about was her worries over Mewtwo.

 _“Do you want the good news?”_ he attempted to win back some of her attention, if only for a moment. All she gave him was a profoundly pissed glower that Nico willfully ignored. The Alakazam clasped his inhuman hands together eagerly.

 _“I’m expecting a promotion_ **_very_ ** _soon.”_

* * *

 

Char looked like she didn’t get a wink of sleep to Mewtwo, as she relied heavily on her cane to enter his cell. “You want the good news, or the bad news?”

The clone seemed unfamiliar with the phrase, looking up from the sad little breakfast tray he was allowed with confusion. _“Good news, I guess?”_

Char’s laugh was strained, and desperate to find humor in her situation. “Wow. I don’t think I’ve ever heard of someone asking for the good news first. ‘Fraid I didn’t come prepared for that, honestly.”

_“So there is no good news?”_

She flopped down beside him, and the cot mattress bounced slightly from her added weight. “Nope! But I’m glad you’re sitting down for this one.”

He could already feel her dread, mixing with his own. Something didn’t feel right. Char sighed, unable to find any way to word this as something that wasn’t terrifying.

“We got about five hours to get you ready to see Giovanni.”

She immediately held up a finger, putting a pause on the feeling of helpless, impending doom sinking into Mewtwo’s bones. “Now, it’s _just_ a visit. Nothing bad should happen, but you have to do exactly as I say. Alright?”

Mewtwo was a Deerling in the headlights, looking at her like she had just sentenced him to death. Her own expression hardened. She didn’t have the time to be forgiving of his anxieties, now. “I’m serious. No back-talking, no difficulty, no uncooperativeness. You need to show your loyalty.”

It was difficult, watching Mewtwo swallow his fear, bury it, and replace it with a grim acceptance of what was to come. Char gave him his moment; expecting some outburst, or collapse. He simply gave her a serious, understanding nod.

_“What do I have to do?”_

 

If there was one thing Char was familiar with, it was what a trainer wanted from their pokemon. Especially a trainer like Giovanni. A ‘career’ trainer; a glory-seeker, a power-hungry brat looking for their next attack dog. Her goal was not to impress him with raw power, but with something that would appeal to his sensibilities and ego. Obedience. Conditioning. She hoped it wouldn’t be something she would need to teach. Not again.

“I’m going to lead him into your cell, and when he does you will stand straight and look straight ahead. Not at me, not at him, not until he demands your attention.”

Char examined Mewtwo’s posture, gently guiding his shoulders back and his neck a little straighter. She could feel him trying to suppress the last vestiges of fear still present in his eyes. He shivered when she gave him an encouraging scratch under his chin.

“Look him in the eye when he speaks to you, but look down when he doesn’t. You must give him the impression that he is the only person you will answer to.”

_“How do you know all this?”_

“I learned from observation. Trial and error.” Her hand was cold and clammy from her own nerves, but Mewtwo still appreciated her touch along the edge of his jaw. “You’ll be fine though, alright? This will work.”

Char had him stand in place as she took a position in front of him, towards the door. Representing the master he was supposed to prostrate himself to. “Now, Giovanni’s a hypocrite. He wants fear before loyalty, but he hates it when they’re too scared of him to act. He’ll try and get a rise out of you if you don’t; and he’ll make up an excuse to strike you, if he wants. Knowing him, he’ll probably give you a few commands and see how much dignity you still have.”

She snapped her fingers, and pointed at the ground by her feet. “When he asks you to heel, you step closer to him and get to your knees. Now, _heel_.”

Mewtwo didn’t hesitate to obey, making sure to glare at the floor, mostly so she wouldn’t see his eyes begin to water. Despite herself, Char hesitated. Mewtwo only looked up at her when he swore he could hear the softest sob, and caught her taking a deep, ragged breath. Briefly, her face was a mask of grief before she collected herself again.

“Play along with him, but don’t let him get to you. Alright?”

With a more gentle tone than Giovanni would have, she ordered him to his feet.

“Things will get easier if he’s satisfied with your behavior, so make him feel in control. Make him feel like he’s the most powerful person in the room.”

Char put on her own act as she instructed Mewtwo in his. Her own facade of professionalism. That training discipline that tamed monsters and demanded respect from her team. The ease with which it came to her was making her feel disgusted with herself. She knew what Giovanni wanted, because that’s what she used to instill in her own team. But there had to be a world of difference between him and her, right? She loved her boys, they trusted her. She had a _soul._

… Right?

* * *

 

On the surface, Nico stood at attention. Shoulders back, posture impeccable. He stared expressionlessly into the middle distance as the sound of the helicopter lowering to the ground became overwhelming. Wind rippled through his fur as his whiskers became wild streamers whipping behind him, but he remained obediently rigid. Tense. His master stepped out of the aircraft as its blades began to slowly wind down, and the Alakazam braced himself.

“Nicodemus!”

He allowed himself to look at Giovanni, who pointed towards the ground. _“Heel!”_

Without hesitation, the hulking pokemon bowed at the human’s feet. His whiskers, left to hang loosely from his muzzle, settled into the dirt and filth of the bare ground. Nico heard the soft, self-assured chuckle above him, but knew better than to look up.

“So,” Giovanni snapped his fingers to have Nico rise up again, and gestured for him to follow with the rest of the small posse of Rocket enforcers that gathered. “I heard you had something important to show me?”

_“Yes, Master, I-”_

Giovanni held a hand up to shush him.“I’ll look at it after I take a look at the asset. The doctor said it tried to overload that inhibitor already, did it?”

 _“I believe it attempted to. The failsafe kicked in, of course.”_ Nico was already starting to fidget with his moustache, hands snapping back behind his back whenever Giovanni made to glance towards him. 

“And only at a seventy-five percent handicap? Not bad.” Giovanni had the guards scrambling to open the elevator doors for him with barely a wave.

The death march to the lab was unbearable, made all the worse from layer after layer of suppression fields making Nico’s head ache. He wondered what Giovanni would see at the end of the line. A scared, feral animal? A dull and broken captive? … Char, in all of her stubbornness? No, she already knew what it was like to try and fight back. At least this time, it wasn’t _his_ life on the line.

Char stood at attention in the lab, her mouth a thin, grim line as she bade herself to look as neutral about this as possible. She gave Giovanni a nod. “It’s ready to see you, sir.”

“Excellent.”

Cutting through the darkness of the observation room, the perpetual light of the cell was almost blinding. Mewtwo stood rigid and unerring, awaiting any order Giovanni may command. 

The well-dressed man gestured behind him. A pair of armed guards cautiously entered before him, taking position to train their weapons on the pokemon. Only then, did he step through the suppression barrier himself.

“I see we’re not bolting anymore.” Giovanni smirked, and snapped his fingers. _“Heel.”_

Without missing a beat, Mewtwo obeyed. Nico heard and felt Char hold her breath. On the floor, the clone kept his eyes on the stark white tiles, the well-shined shoes of his captor in the peripheral of his vision. With all the strength he could muster against the inhibitor, he searched for Char’s presence, and held onto the faint, familiar comfort. That comfort was cut off by the sheer coldness of Giovanni’s voice.

“I hope Charlotte managed to get it through your thick skull that it doesn’t matter how many people you kill, or how far you run; you were not made to be _free_ . _Up!_ ”

Mewtwo was around his height, enough to meet him at eye-level. Giovanni observed the stony expression the pokemon took on, and the rigid posture he adopted. A hand was outstretched and, to Mewtwo’s silent horror, cupped his jaw in a mockery of Char’s simple gestures of affection. Instead of a soft, fleeting brush, Giovanni’s hands were cold and firm; grabbing at the pokemon’s chin and hooking a thumb into his mouth.

“Go on,” Giovanni dared, “ _bite me_ . I’m giving you _permission_.”

Instead, Mewtwo stood still, mouth open, tongue trying desperately not to touch him lest he retch. Giovanni kept still for a moment before he finally withdrew his hand, disappointment in his eyes but a disgusting smile on his face.

“More docile than the last one you gave me, Jessop.”

Behind her boss’ back, Char tried to take Nico’s hand for comfort. The Alakazam flinched away.

In the back of her mind was always how easily this could end; it would only take a quick draw of a pokeball, and some well-timed commands. Giovanni was a pink, fleshy, vulnerable human, and Char had champion fighters on her side. She was supposed to be the one in power here. At least, she would be; if she were in her world on the rural routes, and not in his world. Surrounded by his cronies, outnumbered with too much at stake. She couldn’t afford to strike back, and lose, and doom everyone she cared about because of her selfishness.

In front of them, Giovanni made a show of inspecting his ‘asset’, checking for a weakness to exploit. Tapping the metal cover of the inhibitor, giving the delicate cord at his neck a curious squeeze. It was unnecessary and humiliating, but that was the point.

“Not bad,” Giovanni admitted, finally. “The behavior is as excellent as I expected from you, Jessop. But can it fight?”

 _“We only started combat training a day ago, master.”_ Nico answered. _“In another couple weeks, we will have resu-”_

“Was I speaking to _you?_ ” Giovanni hissed, and put the fear of god back into his pokemon. His ire turned back towards Char.

“Honestly… You give them an inch and they’ll ask for a mile. I want footage of future combat sessions and a moveset plan. I expected a bit more from you by now, Jessop. Do you think I’m paying you to sit around and _talk_ to it?”

Char gave him a cold stare. “Do you want a pokemon that fears your control over it, or a pokemon that understands its servitude to you? A specimen this powerful needs to be built from the ground up, not worn down into something broken.”

Giovanni laughed darkly, clapping a hand against Mewtwo’s shoulder as if she told him a joke. “See, that’s what I’m paying her for. Good, old-fashioned principles. But, I’m sure you know all about that.”

Not wanting to provoke his cruelty by speaking, Mewtwo nodded in response. To his relief, Giovanni left him, and turned his attention towards Nico.

“Alright Nico, what was this pressing issue you were going on about?”

Nico hesitated for only a moment, all too aware of Char standing close by. _“I wish to discuss the matter in private, if I may, Master.”_

Giovanni just sighed impatiently, and waved for the Alakazam to follow him out of the cell, the armed guards hot on their tail. As soon as they passed her by, Char beelined inside again, and out of the corner of his eye Nico watched Mewtwo collapse into her arms.

* * *

 

There wasn’t much left of the original project files that could be salvaged from New Island; Mewtwo knew what to look for when seeking to destroy evidence of his own failure. After some pressure on Bright, Nico collected a loose, but intriguing trail of information. The misshapen, formless cloning attempts that were still kept in the old Cinnabar lab. The hybridization evidence in Mewtwo’s genetic sequencing. The memories of Mewtwo’s confession, so graciously supplied by Char. Nico laid them out for Giovanni to process.

_“Going by the timeline between your acquisition and the original plans by the resigned Dr. Fuji, something must have gone wrong. Cloning is a very delicate process, of course. The DNA evidence of Mew couldn’t possibly be complete enough for a pure copy.”_

Giovanni rubbed his chin thoughtfully, sitting back at the desk that was now his, as long as he was in the compound. “You think Fuji sold me a sham, huh?”

_“What’s more, is that the clone’s own testimony suggests that they were in the process of a more complete subject before the ‘incident’. All that data was lost, unfortunately.”_

“So you just have psychic hearsay to go off of?”

Nico slouched his shoulders, and tried to look small and submissive. _“What I’m suggesting, is that this clone is not only not what you negotiated from Fuji in the first place, it might also not be as powerful as originally projected.”_

The moments that ticked by were agonizing. It took everything in Nico’s hard-earned self control not to dip even slightly into Giovanni’s mind, be it benignly or not. That would surely be a death sentence; and even then, he didn’t need to do so. Giovanni would see his loyalty, his subservience, and see it was genuine. More genuine than whatever act Mewtwo followed at the behest of Char.

Giovanni looked over the scraps of data, and the notes and transcriptions Nico provided, raised his eyebrows, and shrugged noncommittally.

“Nobody’s going to know it’s _not_ Mew, you know.”

_“... What?”_

Giovanni collected the bundle of papers, tapped the bottom edges flat against the desk, and handed them back to him. “Listen, nobody knows what Mew really looked like. Up until now, it was just some fairytale. As long as it’s powerful enough, who’s going to really care about the details?”

 _“We made an unstable mutant.”_ Nico insisted. _“Forgive me Master, but these long-term plans you have in place will not work if the asset can’t measure up to our projections.”_

“Then _recalculate the projections_.” Giovanni’s fingers gripped the table as he leaned forward, and Nico flinched backwards as a result. “I want it in the suit by the end of the month.”

Nico made no indication of the chill that ran down his spine, and simply nodded. _“Of course, Master.”_

Giovanni seemed satisfied with the dully obedient look in the Alakazam’s eyes, as he leaned back casually in his seat. “I know, I know. There’s a new kid in town, and suddenly you’re not the most interesting guy in the room. Don’t worry; I think you’ll be pleased with what I have in mind. We’ll need a psychic to control a psychic, after all, won’t we?”

He cracked a grin at how Nico’s ears perked up. Be they man or beast, the people below a king will always claw desperately at the table scraps of his dominion.

* * *

 

Char couldn’t unclench her jaw until she saw Giovanni’s shitty helicopter fly out of view herself. Beside her, Nico seemed to visibly relax as well, though he seemed markedly more positive. Chipper even, with whatever promotion he hinted towards apparently secured. Char had no insight into the inner politics of Team Rocket, and what he and Giovanni would discuss behind closed doors, but she knew it had to have been something concerning Mewtwo. Nico’s willingness to go along with this disgusted her, but not nearly as much as her own resignation to the situation was starting to.

 _“I think that went rather well, don’t you think?”_ Nico purred into her head, once they retreated back underground. He was met with a metaphorical wall as she sought to purposefully close her mind to him, and he withdrew with a wounded look.

_“Oh come on, everything went off without a hitch, didn’t it?”_

Char sneered at him. He didn’t need a connection to see anger begin to bubble up to the surface. “What are you getting out of this?”

 _“What am I getting out of this?”_ Nico placed a hand on his chest incredulously. _“Haven’t we discussed this before? Giovanni’s love is conditional, and he rewards competition for it. I’m doing what I was_ **_made_ ** _to do.”_

His remark was particularly cold, devoid of the sarcasm he’d usually inject into words like that. He was deathly serious, and his own distaste towards his words flashed through his eyes briefly.

_“I wasn’t made for anything else, and neither was he. At least by not fighting it, I’m not the one on the other side of the quarantine.”_

Without a connection to her empathy, Nico searched for a read on Char’s face. Briefly, she almost looked like she pitied him. It didn’t last long; quickly souring into contempt as she pushed past him and went back to the elevator in silence.

 

It was moments like these, that Char had to remind herself what she was still going on for. It wasn’t just the medicine that kept her functioning halfway decently, it wasn’t just the painkillers keeping her on her feet. It was the family she still had, and her promise to keep them together.

In the woods; away from the Rocket grunts, the suffocating compound, and Nico, Char spent the rest of the early evening curled up in Yanna’s lap. Some things would never change, no matter how big and gangly you’d get. Yanna had stayed roughly the same size since he was fifteen, but he still cradled her like she was made of glass. Not far off, Jupiter and Mercury were too restless to join them, and took to scratching around for bugs and small prey to chase. Their company was still appreciated, and occasionally one would trot up to get their trainer’s attention for a few pats before getting distracted again. Those two didn’t need to understand the details of why they were there, or what their trainer was going through.

Char observed the placid look on the Hariyama’s face, as he kept an eye on his teammates. Of course, Yanna rarely asked questions when it came to the affairs of humans. That wasn’t what he was taught; Makuhita had disciplined upbringings, and they would grow up into loyal, protective adults with a bond to a human partner they saw as almost sacred. Char remembered when they met, when she visited the Defword Colony. He took one look at her, and immediately asked for a different one. At least looking back, they could say that the initial turbulence in their partnership meant they were perfect for each other. With a soft touch against his short muzzle, she caught his attention.

“You know… I know by now you would have retired, if we were back home. If you ever want to go back to your clan-”

 **“This is my clan.”** Yanna’s answer was blunt and direct, and he looked down at her with all the muted concern a family member would. **“Am I not a part of yours?”**

“I- yeah,” Char’s voice broke, “yeah of course, honey. I just don’t want you to think you _have_ to be with me, you know?”

Yanna snorted gruffly. **“What brings this up?”**

Char stirred in his arms, readjusting into a more comfortable position before settling back down with a tired sigh. “I want to revoke my trainership license. I can’t do this anymore, being a trainer isn’t what it used to be.”

She could feel the deep, thoughtful hum rumbling in Yanna’s chest. Being this close to a Hariyama was like being next to base speakers at a concert. **“What would become of us, if you did?”**

“Well, I dunno about Kanto, but Hoenn doesn’t make you surrender what pokemon you have if you register them as League retirees. We’d still be a family, just not a fighting family.”

**“We’ve been retired for a very long time.”**

“I know.” Char closed her eyes against the pressure of a headache slowly making itself apparent. “I don’t want to call myself a trainer while _the suit_ is the kind of example trainership represents.”

 **“The suit.”** She could feel Yanna bristle at the mention of Giovanni. With no way for him to say some human words, she and Yanna had developed an effective system of nicknames and alternative terms. Some of them stuck permanently, like his nickname for her.

Char could feel the resentment drum up inside her as well. A cold, helpless anger. “I can’t let him have Mewtwo. I already lost Nico to him.”

Yanna grunted dismissively. **“That Kazam was already lost.”**

“He had potential to be good. I really tried with him.” Char made a small, miserable sound as she rolled over in his lap to properly rest her head against Yanna’s arm. “But you can’t just love someone and hope that fixes them. I can’t fill whatever void in his heart he thinks servitude can help.”

The Hariyama sighed, and gave her a resigned, disappointed look. **“I can’t keep saving you from these psychics, they’re no good for you. How do we know if that cat won’t hurt you too?”**

“Mewtwo’s different.”

**“You’ve said that before.”**

Char grumbled. “I mean it this time. He’s not like any pokemon I’ve met. All the other sapients; Kazam, Hariyama, they all are people, but they aren’t human. This guy, he’s got this quality to him. You can see it in his eyes. He’s more human than Giovanni, that’s for damn sure.”

 **“Where have I heard this before?”** Yanna’s drone took on a slightly bemused inflection. **“‘He’s not like the other spoon-benders, elder brother, he has a soft heart and a human’s eyes…’”**

“Stoooop,” Char squirmed in his arms, and covered her reddening face. “It’s not like that! I just feel sorry for him!”

Yanna tightened his grip on her, not painfully so, but enough that she was drawn up against his chest and felt the resounding beat of his heart against her ear.

**“I know you keep searching for what the plant took from you, and I cannot fix that. I cannot help you fill that absence; but I can worry about you, little sister, and that will drive me to an undignified death.”**

Char chuckled quietly, the sound muffled by Yanna’s sheer bulk mostly obscuring her face. She reached a hand out and patted his coarse-furred muzzle affectionately.

“If they ever ask, I’ll make sure to say you died on your feet, fighting for me.”

* * *

 

Night had long since fallen by the time Giovanni returned to his estate. The distance between him and his project made things a little less hands-on than he would have preferred, but there was safety in knowing he was miles away, in the event of another accident. He’d rather have his lackeys take the brunt of whatever revenge that creature would enact.

The behavior example was good, but he could still see the hatred in its eyes. No matter; he beat it out of Nicodemus before, and he’ll do the same to this one, if he has to. He had dreamt of a perfect servant, once. A loyal attack dog. A partner.

Away from his servants and sycophants, in the solitude of his personal study, Giovanni pulled a few photographs out of his pocket, and tossed them onto the desk. Some lab records of the asset’s physiology that he had requested. Reference pictures of details that were bothering him. The underside of the desk drawer was unlocked, and he pulled out the papers he kept secret. He was loathe to have anyone see these; they were the scrawlings of a madman. There was no way he could justify these to anyone but himself.

He wasn’t an artist, but the drawings he did were serviceable. The bipedal figure was still white, still feline in the vaguest sense. He compared the photographs of the paws and muzzle to the faint memories he retained, and felt a chill run down his spine.

The checklist was consulted. Beside several names, he kept himself updated on their whereabouts. Their status, their actions; were they planning anything yet? Were they still alive? Did they ever exist? Maxie was a common geologist working out of Hoenn, and gave no indication of knowing him. Lysandre had been in prison for terrorism for years. Ghestis was running some petty cult that lauded his son as some sort of chosen one - Giovanni wasn’t touching _that_ with a ten-foot pole. Archie was dead, and had been for years. His name was crossed out, and it was the first indication Giovanni had that something... wasn’t right. Things weren’t going as they were supposed to.

With unsteady hands, Giovanni tipped a few pills into his palm, took a deep breath after choking them down, and hit the speed dial on his vidphone.

The screen on the other end was dim, and a weary looking face glared at him, disheveled and annoyed. “Do you have _any_ idea what time it is over here, asshole?”

Giovanni looked pale on the other end, wringing his hands as he tried to retain his posturing. “Cyrus, we have another problem.”


	8. Chapter 8

Char gave him the signal, and Mewtwo’s response was immediate. He held out a hand, and used the motion of squeezing thin air to better focus on the target in front of him. Even if he wasn’t touching anything, the effort of trying to crush the cinderblock felt as though he was using his bare hands; only instead of his hands hurting, his head throbbed. The familiar feeling of hitting the metaphorical wall of inhibition.

_“... Yeah, I’m gonna need another ten percent.”_

Lounging on a bench all to himself, Nico lazily flicked his wrist, and Mewtwo whimpered from the shock.

_“Could you please warn me before doing that?”_

_“You asked for it.”_

Char rolled her eyes. “Alright guys, back on task.”

The wiry muscles in Mewtwo’s arm flexed as he tried to squeeze the block again. The concrete cracked, and a few crumbling debris fell off of it from his efforts. Ignoring the pain, he persisted; the veins in his neck cord beginning to stand out as his heart pounded to keep up with his brain’s demand. With a resounding crunch, the cinderblock finally collapsed in on itself.

“Alright!” Char’s eyes lit up, and she reached for the clipboard beside her. “That’s what, ninety percent this time?”

 _“Eighty percent handicap, for roughly two-hundred pounds of force,”_ Nico noted in a bored tone. _“Now, I know you can do better than that.”_

 _“I don’t exactly get a lot of time to practice.”_ Mewtwo frowned, and rubbed the spot at the back of his head where the inhibitor rested above his cord. That part would always get so sore afterwards… at this rate, he was going to be more dependent on Char’s painkillers than she was.

He made to reach into Char’s bag, only to be met with the butt of a cane giving his hand a sharp tap.

“Oh no you don’t,” Char scolded. “Every twelve hours _only_ , and I mean it. The last thing I wanna tell Giovanni is how I got his pokemon addicted to pain meds.”

 _“But it hurts every time it gets adjusted.”_ Mewtwo gave her a miserable look, his hand still clutching at the inhibitor.

“You can’t just always take a pill and make the pain disappear completely,” Char subconsciously straightened out her stiff knee. “Sometimes you just have to push it down into the background of your life, and live with it.”

She noted the discomfort in Mewtwo’s eyes, and she considered other options for a moment. Arceus knows she had accumulated enough alternative methods of pain management.

“Nico, honey, could you go to my room and get the ice pack out of the freezer?” She turned to give the Alakazam an endearing smile, which made his ears flick in acknowledgment.

Nico sniffed, braided whiskers swaying, and half-floated into an upright position. _“If I must.”_

Mewtwo watched carefully as the other psychic left the training room, ears up and alert as if keeping an eye on a predator. Having both of them in the room was like trying to introduce two antisocial Purrloins together. He only visibly relaxed when the door was closed, and it was just him and Char. He gave her a hesitant glance. She gave him a small nod, and he made his way out onto the open floor.

He lifted himself off the ground slowly, at first; nails dragging against the tiled floor as he stopped walking and started floating. Mewtwo twirled around a bit in midair as he rose, and savored the fleeting feeling of weightlessness. On the ground, Char watched him bemusedly, and felt the feedback of comfort and excitement rise in their connection. “You like flying a lot, don’t you?”

 _“That’s an understatement!”_ Enthusiasm was clear in Mewtwo’s thoughts, and he did a slow, tumbling backflip. _“Gravity is so depressing! It makes me feel so vulnerable and clumsy, but when I’m levitating, I feel like I have control of my body.”_

He swooped in closer, righted himself, and swished the end of his tail happily. _“Does that make sense?”_

“Sounds reasonable to me.” Char smiled, mostly just enjoying the rare moment where he seemed completely at ease.

 _“It isn’t the same indoors,”_ Mewtwo noted, his gleeful expression falling a bit. _“Back at the old lab, they’d only let me hover a bit. When I escaped… I could go as high as I wanted. I got to see just how big the world really was.”_

He drifted down to meet Char on the ground, and reached for her hands. She pulled them back with a polite, somewhat strained smile.

“I’m not really good with heights, hon. Sorry.”

 _“I won’t drop you.”_ Mewtwo promised firmly, and gave her a hopeful, pleading look that made Char sigh with faux exasperation.

“Alright, fine. Just don’t go too high.”

Before she could muster the strength to get up, weightlessness had already gripped her and made her reflexively stiffen. It wasn’t a sensation humans were really meant to experience; the feeling of every cell in your body losing its relationship with gravity. Feeling your organs and bones floating within you. Char’s stomach flipped, and she felt herself being guided into the air.

Mewtwo held her hands securely as an anchor, and patiently helped her right herself into a stable position. Her legs kicked under her for a moment out of instinct before she could calm her nerves, and let herself go limp. It was only a couple of feet above the ground. She could do this.

Mewtwo’s brow knitted with concern. _“Sorry… do you want me to put you down now?”_

“I’m fine.” Char was not fine, but as long as she could turn her attention to anywhere but the ground beneath her, she could pretend.

His grip moved to her forearms to help give her some sense of security, and she grabbed his in turn. _“I wish I could convey how much it means to me. It’s like breathing, or your heart beating; it’s a part of you you don’t realize you need to live until it’s taken away.”_

Despite the fear of falling still lingering in the back of her mind, Char could feel herself starting to relax. Perhaps it was Mewtwo’s own confidence and security with being airborne. Perhaps she simply felt safe with him. The weightlessness was weird, but it was no weirder than the buoyancy of swimming, sans the resistance of the water. Maybe she _could_ do this.

 _“When I was free, I could roam for hours just seeing all the things I was missing before. All the different pokemon and people, all their lives and the things they made.”_ Mewtwo’s expression grew distant, his feline smile fading as he looked around at his reality now. Four bare, windowless walls, two stories underground. _“But I was so caught up in the sheer scale of my freedom, that I didn’t realize I didn’t know how to be independent.”_

He sighed, and Char would have comforted him if she wasn’t sure holding onto him was the only thing keeping her airborne. _“Maybe it’s for the best that you captured me. I didn’t know what I was doing, I had no idea where I was and didn’t have a clue about surviving on my own. I would have just starved to death.”_

“Sometimes we have to pick the lesser of two evils when we choose survival.” Char noted, looking rather distant herself. She could imagine the grim result of his freedom; some mummified corpse huddled against the elements, sad and alone. She’d seen those before, in the form of trainers lost on the routes. The price of independence sometimes meant you’d die alone before somebody realized you needed help.

Char began to bravely free a hand to give him a reassuring touch, when the slamming of the door made them both flinch. And for Mewtwo, being startled meant a lapse in concentration. For Char, it meant suddenly feeling the weight of her skin, bones and organs pulling her back down to earth.

Luckily, Mewtwo still had a firm hold on her, and scrambled to stop her from slipping. Even if it meant grabbing her by the waist and pulling her close. With their chests flush together. It was hard to tell whose heart was hammering the hardest, but it was better than becoming reacquainted with the ground. Char laughed breathlessly, and wrapped her arms around his bony shoulders; simply glad it was just a close call.

The sound of a throat being cleared almost made him drop her all over again. Nico looked thoroughly unamused, and sneered at Mewtwo in particular.

_“Oh, so you have too much of a headache to train, but little enough to goof off?”_

Mewtwo waited until he could ease Char down, before they separated as if the other was diseased. Nico stifled a low, angry growl, and tossed a frozen liquid ice pack at him.

_“So, that was what, a hundred and thirty pounds there? Should we put that down, Char, or do you prefer to keep that information private?”_

“Don’t be a prick,” Char mumbled, knowing full well he could hear her. As she expected, he ignored her, and went back to slouch glumly on the bench.

 

The rest of the session had a chilly, detached air to it. Mewtwo had withdrawn from Char’s connection with a sense of shame and anxiousness, and Char gave Nico a dirty, disapproving look whenever their eyes met. In the days after Giovanni’s visit, Nico had inserted himself into Char’s sessions with Mewtwo; and she couldn’t tell if he was ordered to do so, or if he had some obligation to watch her posessively. It was having an adverse effect on their charge. Mewtwo professed a fear of the Alakazam, and his control over the device in his head.

With all of the protest and grievance over what she was being made to do, Char wouldn’t have been surprised if he was spying on her in case of mutiny. The distrust sucked the warmth out of moments alone together, and in turn made them both bitter and high strung with loneliness. Life underground was even more claustrophobic and miserable than ever, now.

When the session was over, Mewtwo sadly let himself be escorted back to confinement by a pair of armed guards. Nico watched Char’s reaction; sullen and aching, feeling as much a prisoner as the clone. No wonder she had grown cold around him, Nico had become her warden as well. Just as Giovanni surely wanted.

Attempting to touch her on the shoulder just made her flinch away. Char gave him a severe look, more admonishing than any words she could say to him. The Alakazam held a hand up, as though to ward off the negativity he felt from her.

_“I get it, this job has been taking its toll. What can I do to make this easier on you?”_

Char kept a critical eye on him as she seemed to think on that. Ever since she started blocking her empathetic connection to him as best she could, Nico found himself at a loss when reading her body language.

“I want to bring him outside for a bit.”

...Oh. It was about _him_. Nico straightened his posture, and buried the resentment that began to rise in his gut.

_“I see. Do you think he’ll behave?”_

“He’s got no other choice now, does he?” Char snapped back. “I at least want him to see the sky again before we shuttle him over to whatever prison you’re stuffing him in next.”

Nico’s ears drew back as he locked eyes with the trainer, and they both bore holes into each other with their glares. _“... Fine. But you’re getting an escort. I’ll be supervising the whole time.”_

Char’s nose wrinkled, but she still held out a hand. “Alright, deal.”

Nico looked at her hand incredulously, and scoffed. _“‘Deal’? What are we, just business partners now?”_

 _“Yes?”_ Char’s answer dripped with contempt, and their half-hearted handshake was curt and fleeting. Looking into her eyes, Nico could see she was deathly serious.

* * *

Bright had been told to ‘dress for a hike’, and truth be told he had never been on a real hike in his life. Still, he put on some walking shoes, some unflattering khakis, and took the radio his boss gave him, just in case.

… _‘Boss’_. It was still weird, having to call a pokemon that.

Mewtwo was given the collar again, a humiliation he decided he could live with, compared to everything else. At least Char didn’t pull on the leash like he was a poorly trained dog. Again, it was more just for show. He wasn’t about to act out, and ruin this one chance.

The pokemon shifted from foot to foot nervously in the elevator, abhorring the small space shared with several people. His mind felt like an Electrode ready to go off with anticipation, and it was probably the happiest Char had ever seen him. His delight reached a crescendo as she lead him out of the elevator, and into the open air. It was infectious; she shared the relief of the sun on their skin, and the breeze of fresh air that greeted them. Mewtwo’s paws kneaded at the grass underneath him like a happy Skitty.

Char, to show her cooperation, released her team as an extra measure of security. Mewtwo balked at the six-foot, bipedal bird that lowered into a defensive position as it noticed him. Its orange crest of long plumage rose in warning before Char clicked her tongue to bring its attention back to her.

“Don’t mind Mercury. He gets high strung around new pokemon; too much fighting instinct bred into him.”

The stiff-maned, static discharge-generating dog that stayed at her heels merely gave Mewtwo a calm look, but some unbidden instinct made clone want to scramble to a high place. Noting that, Char bent down to pat her hound’s bristles. “You might remember Jupiter, of course. He ain’t gonna zap you this time, I promise.”

Yanna simply gave Mewtwo a small, silent nod of acknowledgement when he was brought out. The clone awkwardly waved back. Above all of them, Mewtwo could feel a pair of scrutinizing eyes glare daggers at the back of his head. Nico was a specter of jealousy and his master’s will, flying at an observational distance.

No amount of surveillance or security measures could truly ruin this. Mewtwo was _outside_ again; the ground was soft beneath his feet, the air was warm and sweet with the smells of summer. While underground, he feared he’d forget how vibrantly blue the sky was, or how it felt to have the wind part the fur of his back. At least he had a reminder before… whatever it was that they had in store for him.

Char kept his leash coiled around her hand the entire time, but allowed him to guide her any which way as they let him explore the bit of forest beyond the fence. Ahead of them, Mercury rooted through the dead leaves and underbrush of the forest floor noisily until he seemed satisfied. He proudly approached his trainer with a beak full of leaves, and deposited them into her waiting hand. There was a worm within the handful of detritus.

“Thank you, baby.” Char wiped her hand on her pants before giving him an earnest pat. “I’m not hungry, but thank you.”

Mewtwo watched Mercury trot off, unfazed by the rejection. _“Do you usually let them run around freely?”_

“I would every day, but they can’t exactly fit underground.” Char observed Jupiter dutifully marking his territory, and shrugged. “They’re not really housepets, anyways. They’re fighters and route travellers. We all are.”

Mewtwo got distracted by a small Venomoth fluttering past him, and quelled the urge to go after it. _“What’s a route?”_

Char did a double-take. “ _Phew,_ that’s right, I keep forgetting you don’t know… most things, do ya. Uh, routes are wilderness trails through rural areas that the League has declared legal to catch pokemon in. Trainers doing their Gym circuit go through them on foot until they reach Victory Road.”

_“I barely know what any of that means.”_

“Honey, we’re gonna be here all day at this rate,” Char chuckled warmly, though not patronizingly towards his ignorance. “Well, the League’s set up Gyms to hone and test training skills, and you need to pass battle tests in all of the Gyms in a region before going after the Champion title. Getting the badge from one is the most sought-after part, but other than that they teach discipline and stuff.”

 _“Like what you’re doing with me?”_ Mewtwo mused.

“Sorta. It’s more like… teaching the trainers how to train right. It’s a joint effort, you’re just a part of your own team as they are. The stuff I’m doing with you is usually handled on the routes, learned as you go. Bonding and experience.”

Mewtwo hummed aloud thoughtfully. _“So, I guess this is more the standard training experience, huh?”_

He was met with a firm scratch above his brow that made him tilt his head against her hand.

“If Giovanni wanted a _properly_ trained pokemon, he’d be doing this his damn self. Thank god he isn’t.”

Mewtwo couldn’t imagine Giovanni being out here, talking to him and teaching him as Char did. He wondered if Giovanni even had any other pokemon. Did they look at that man with all the love and respect Char’s pokemon did for her?

The sun reached its zenith above them slowly, filtering through the canopy. Occasionally, Mewtwo would find a patch of sunshine to pause and bask in the warmth. Char could see him becoming at ease, even with the presence of the Rocket escort and her pokemon watching him like a hawk. She kept the other humans at a reasonable distance, putting on an authoritative tone, sounding like she knew what was best for him. As far as they knew, she did.

It wasn’t freedom, but it was something. The kind of promise she made to him in the beginning, of cooperation being rewarded. Char didn’t know if Giovanni would even be so generous. For all she knew, she was setting Mewtwo up for heartbreak. Well, he didn’t have to dwell on that, right now.

Mewtwo gazed longingly up the length of a conifer with numerous, low branches, and turned to Char with a pleading look in his eyes. _“Can I climb this? I just want to be up high again.”_

Char scratched her chin as she assessed the tree in question, and turned to Bright, who just shrugged. “Well I mean… it’s not like he can fly off.”

“True… alright, just be careful.” She unhooked the leash. Before he could leave, she hooked a finger underneath his collar to pull him close, and give him a look more severe than he was used to seeing from her.

“Don’t make me regret this. Alright?”

 _“Right.”_ Mewtwo squirmed anxiously, and when she finally let him go he bounded towards the tree.

Maybe he wasn’t meant to climb, like most feline pokemon could. Mewtwo scrambled to hold on with trimmed claws and an awkward sense of balance; he was clearly more at home in the air, but climbing provided some weak compromise. Char, frankly, didn’t envy him reaching heights that were making her dizzy just watching him.

Bright looked up in concern alongside her. “It’s going to be tough trying to explain to Giovanni that we broke his asset’s neck, if he falls.”

Char shrugged unhelpfully. “Maybe he has enough cat in him to land on his feet. Surprised you allowed this to begin with, honestly. Change of heart?”

Bright wiped the sweat that beaded on his forehead from being outside for more than five minutes. “Well, after uh, Giovanni visiting, I see you’ve really straightened him out. Dunno if that’ll keep up when he’s not being trained by you, but we’ll see.”

“Yeah,” Char mumbled bitterly, and turned her attention back to her charge.

Stopping just before the treetop became too tapered and weak for him to safely climb, Mewtwo still reached an impressive height. The sheer distance from the ground didn’t seem lost on him either, as he firmly wrapped his tail around the narrowing trunk and held onto what branches he could. In the breeze, he swayed, but whatever view he was taking in seemed more important.

Char squinted against the sun in her eyes as she looked up at him. “Enjoying the view up there?”

There was a delay before he could respond, out of sheer distraction. _“It’s beautiful!”_

The wind picked up, and the way it rocked him to and fro at that height was enough to urge him back down again. Char almost considered having Mercury climb up there after him, not really trusting the way he clumsily clawed his way down.  He may be the clone of a god, but he was still mortal, after all. It would only take one missed step, and untold amounts of time and money would be down the drain.

Char held her breath until she saw him hop down from the last branch, and safely have both paws on the ground again. Mewtwo was a little filthy from the bark and pine needles stuck to his fur, but there was clear delight in his face.

The trainer wiped crumbs of bark off his face. “Satisfied?”

 _“Yes.”_ Mewtwo’s answer was insincere, but Char knew it wouldn’t do any good for him to be honest. She was more than aware of the undercurrent of longing for freedom that kept building in the background of this outing.

 

As the day started to wind down, the clock was ticking towards when they’d bring him back in again. Knowing it would be over soon was starting to sour Mewtwo’s mood, so Char tried to keep him distracted. She brought out a ball, and he joined her pokemon in a game of catch as the shadows on the ground began to lengthen.

She liked to show off how high Mercury would leap to catch something thrown straight up into the air, and how Jupiter could still muster bursts of speed despite age starting to slow him down. When Yanna threw the ball, Mercury would basically disappear into the forest for several minutes, but still return with it in his beak. Mewtwo, grounded and inhibited, had markedly poor hand eye coordination when trying to throw or catch. It didn’t seem to ruin his fun, at least.

When Mewtwo seemed to be tiring out at last, Bright gave Char a careful nudge and a whisper in her ear. “It should be about time to wrap this up.”

Char’s heart sank. Unfortunately, Mewtwo felt that, enough to pause and look over at her with concern.

“Alright boys, to me,” Char commanded, and this time all four of them promptly answered her call. After a brief farewell to the clone, they were all returned without issue; something that still unsettled Mewtwo. He had had gotten scuffed up while playing, his white fur vividly showing the dirt he managed to get… everywhere, really. Char could feel the sadness welling up inside him, knowing that this fleeting moment of joy was at an end. She put on an apologetic smile as she brushed off his dingy front. “Did you have a nice time?”

Mewtwo looked nervous as he shied away from her touch. _“I wish it didn’t have to end.”_

“Me too, hon.”

A cold chill passed between them as Mewtwo’s gaze grew distant, distracted by the expanse of wilderness behind them. Fear and anxiety twisted in her gut as she could sense his longing, and the sickly feeling of anticipation… 

Char grabbed his attention again with a touch, making him flinch. She had no voice when she mouthed the words _‘it’s not worth it’_ in vain. For a moment, Mewtwo hesitated; fear in his eyes, his pulse making her heart race in turn. Then, he bolted into the trees.

“Fuck- _Mewtwo!_ ”

The rest of the escort jumped to attention as they saw their priceless asset sprint deeper into the forest, his trainer gritting her teeth and she tried to keep up. It was all she could do to hastily hold her hands up to signal them to stand down. “I got this, hold on! Don’t call for backup!”

After a long day of activity, every step with her bad leg felt like getting it torn off all over again; pain lanced up the muscles of her thigh and made her stumble. Luckily, she had someone _made_ to run for moments like this.

 _“Merc’!”_ She flung the pokeball towards the white blur desperately trying to lose them, and pointed like she was singling out prey for a hunt. _“Run him down!”_

To Mercury, it _was_ a hunt; and he sped towards the clone at full force, faster and nimbler than the grounded psychic could ever be. Looking back to see the Blaziken leaping through tree branches and bounding effortlessly meters at a time was enough to make Mewtwo stumble, and instantly lose the chase.

Char could only hope she could hobble fast enough to catch up before Mercury could actually do damage. She found the bird still trying to subdue his ‘prey’, scratching him up in the process.

“Mercury! Down, boy!” The trainer panted, and the Blaziken disengaged obediently, leaving his quarry alone in the dirt. She had to return her pokemon promptly before he had a chance to tear him up, like he was trained to do in any other situation. 

Char roughly pulled Mewtwo to his feet by the shoulder, ignoring his pained whines. “What the _fuck_ do you think you’re doing, Huh?”

Mewtwo refused to look at her, and turned his head away. Char grabbed him by the muzzle to force eye contact with her.

“Are you fucking _stupid_? Do you have any idea what you’re doing?”

 _“I’m sorry,_ ” His thoughts were small, and timid. Tears were welling in his bloodshot eyes, and the ache it gave Char made her voice crack.

“You can’t just run away, alright? You can’t just go out there with no idea what you’re doing, you’re _inhibited_ , for God’s sake! What are you going to do, huh? Where are you going to go?”

_“Come with me.”_

“Wh-” Char nearly let go of him then, feeling like lightning struck through her from their contact. Mewtwo grabbed onto her, and looked through her with pleading, wet eyes.

_“Please, come with me. If we escape together, maybe we can make it. You’re a prisoner too, right?”_

Char stood dumbstruck, barely able to move as he closed in on her. Mewtwo buried his face in the crook of her neck as he sniffled.

_“Please… I don’t want to leave without you.”_

“I… I c-” She hiccuped against a sob, and her thoughts turned to all of the medication she left behind in her room. All the things she would need - that _they_ would need - that she didn’t have with her. Supplies, a plan, a place to go…

 “I can’t.”

Mewtwo sobbed aloud against her, shivering and clinging to her for dear life. It was all she could do to hold onto him, knowing that her embrace would bring him no comfort against the words she was saying. “It’s not that simple, honey. We can’t just leave. I’m sorry…”

The wind picked up and brought a chill to Char’s face, bringing attention to the warm tears that she was rubbing against Mewtwo’s fur. She stood there and held him because she could do nothing else. Moving at all meant one of two things: going back to the compound, or going deeper into the woods. And those woods were growing darker and more foreboding by the minute.

She really wanted nothing more than to go with him, then; it felt like every bone in her body ached for his promise of freedom. It was so close. The only thing keeping them here was her fear. The fear of the reality of what was beyond the lab. The fear of the sort of retaliation Giovanni would execute.

“I’m sorry,” Char whispered breathlessly, and tried to calm Mewtwo’s choked, heavy breathing before he started hyperventilating. “I’m so sorry, I can’t do anything to help you. I’m sorry I’m keeping you here. I’m a monster...”

She really was. She felt monstrous; too cowardly to stand up to Giovanni, too complacent to object to what happened to Nico. Too pained, too tired, too broken to be able to save anyone.

Mewtwo calmed down over time, settling into their embrace. Maybe he really wouldn’t have tried to bolt, if he knew she wouldn’t go after him herself. Maybe that meant he was certain she would have said yes. Char thought he had every reason to hate her then, as his jailor and torturer. She was a part of his misery, and she was dooming him to perhaps an even worse fate than merely dying in the woods, alone. But still, he held onto her firmly. Refusing to let go, as if it would be the last time they’d ever be this close again.

Char felt a quiet purr rumbling in his throat, resonating between their chests pressed tightly together. He was trying to comfort her, as well. After everything she did. After everything she just said.

The insects of the evening were starting up their regular chorus around them. People from the compound were surely looking for them, by now. They’d probably think she escaped with him. What was she going to do when she got back? What was going to happen to them?

Worrying about the near future wasn’t going to do her any good, as the extension of Giovanni’s dominion floated sinistery before them, shining a flashlight accusingly in their faces.

 _“I should have known.”_ Nico kept up a cool facade, but couldn’t completely hide the lividness in the light reflecting off his eyes, or the way his breathing hitched in quiet rage.

Char pushed Mewtwo away from her promptly. “ _For fuck’s sake_ , get your mind out of the gutter. I was trying to get him to come back peacefully.”

The callous tone of her voice cut through Mewtwo, but she couldn’t stop now. “If we just tranqed him, he would have just tried to escape again. I was _resolving the issue._ ”

 _“I know_ **_exactly_ ** _what you were doing.”_ Nico narrowed his eyes at her. _“If you’re so dedicated to teaching him loyalty, then why don’t you show him some actual discipline?”_

He tossed something down onto the ground. It was the leash. _“Go on, then. I’ll let you walk him home yourself.”_

Having to leash Mewtwo again made Char sick to her stomach, but she did it without protest or hesitance. She couldn’t show any indication of her thoughts and feelings as she did everything in her meager power to block out Nico. Unfortunately, that also cut Mewtwo off. Looking into his eyes, she could see a note of desperation, unable to properly make itself heard.

Nico watched over her as she walked her charge through the woods again. The rest of the compound seemed to meet her towards the edge of the woods; possibly from searching for them. Maybe, to leer at them as she continued a deadman’s walk back underground. Mewtwo covered his face around them, not wanting the humans to see the misery of his betrayal.


	9. Chapter 9

Char overextended herself that evening, and spent a miserable night alone in bed, unable to move. Between the emotional blow and her inflamed knee, she wasn’t going anywhere. She certainly wasn’t going to escape. Especially now, with Nico’s eye on her. She could feel the prying sensation of him extending his psy presence across the compound, checking in on her. Making sure she stayed where she belonged.

Her room was cramped enough that she couldn’t even use her pokemon to assist her in moving around, making the most benign actions drawn out and painful. She was used to hurting; hell, she hurt worse than this at the end of the day plenty of times. It was the heartbreak that really stung. It made her body feel a hundred times heavier, and her joints a hundred times weaker. Char laid herself out in her misery like she was waiting for death.

There was a sliding click as the lock on her door opened itself, and Nico invited himself in. Char didn’t acknowledge his presence, preferring to stare blankly at the ceiling. Nico placed a styrofoam container on the end table, and the smell of cooked food made her stomach ache hungrily in response. 

_“You should eat.”_

“Don’t pretend you care about me.” There was no emotion left in Char’s weak murmur, as if it had all been emptied out of her back there in the woods. She heard Nico’s measured breath, as he kept calm composure against her words.

 _“I care about you a lot,”_ he affirmed, _“But sometimes we have to… compromise, between our respective careers and lifestyles.”_

Silence filled the room between his words. It was briefly interrupted by the soft growling of Char’s stomach.

_“For Arceus’ sake Charlotte, at least eat something.”_

Char groaned, and relented; struggling to pull herself up into a sitting position on the bed. Despite her attempts to brush him off, Nico still tried to assist in propping her back up with pillows. Begrudgingly, she opened the container. Hot Johtoan beef and fried rice … dammit, he got her one of her favorites.

“You always did like babying me.” Char remarked, in between the squeaks of plastic fork against styrofoam.

 _“If I remember correctly, you asked for it half of the time.”_ Nico made himself comfortable, sitting on the edge of the bed. Like she was bedridden with illness, and he was being compassionate in keeping her company. _“I know you don’t like it, but sometimes you need help on bad days. There’s nothing wrong with that.”_

“If I want help, I’ll ask for it.” The severity in Char’s words were somewhat muted around a mouthful of meat, and she rushed to chew and swallow to properly admonish him. “And I sure as hell won’t be asking you.”

Nico smirked. _“And yet, I’m the only one who consistently helps you. Funny how that works out.”_

Char ignored him in favor of stuffing her face. She’d rather eat than get into an argument and risk losing her appetite from it. Nico watched her patiently, if not a bit fixedly. There was a strange, uncomfortable air between them; neither of them really seemed to know what they wanted out of the other anymore. Char missed him, in a way; but no, not this Nico. Not this asshole, patronizingly feeding her after he accuses her of having some kind of affair.

Purposefully locking him out of her thoughts, Char could properly stew in her contempt for how he looked at her; so sure of his connection with her. Almost confident that this was all going to blow over, and things would go back to the status quo.

When she finished, Char wiped her mouth haphazardly and glared at him with newfound ire. “You really think that being nice to me now is going to make everything else water under the bridge, huh?”

 _“I do not; don’t be dense,”_ Nico drew back, looking almost offended. _“I simply found it in my heart to provide you with the basic self care you routinely deny yourself -”_

“Don’t make this about _my_ problems, you son of a bitch!” Char’s raised voice echoed off of the plain walls of the room, and Nico flinched habitually.

“So what, am I fired now? Are you going to seperate us like we’re two school kids fooling around? What’s the mission _now_ , Nico? What’s my _job?_ ”

 _“Your_ **_assignment_ ** _is that you’re going to keep working.”_ Nico looked at her with hurt in his eyes for a moment, before he flicked his ears and regained more neutral body language. _“I’m not going to report this to Giovanni. We’re going ahead with the game plan, business as usual.”_

Char blinked at him, surprised, before mistrust set in again. “Bullshit. You wouldn’t miss an opportunity to try and undermine Mewtwo.”

 _“Not when there’s more risk to my station here,”_ Nico admitted. _“Regardless of what you may think about me, I don’t want to have you caught in the crossfire of my personal ambitions.”_

Char sneered. “How _unlike_ the Team Rocket spirit.”

The Alakazam snorted briefly, the irony not lost on him. He spared another glance towards her, and saw her expression grow serious and unreadable. Char took a drawn-out breath as she stared back, dreading what she would have to say.

“Nico… remember all those years back, before you evolved? And I was just out of the hospital, still having those nightmares and flashbacks, so I’d beg you to take those memories away from me. To just rewind time for me to a point before I was triggered, or just erase the dreams I had that night?”

Char folded her hands in her lap, deliberately slowly as she paused, and saw the spark of recognition in Nico’s eyes. “What was that code phrase we agreed on, to tell me what you did afterwards without accidentally triggering me again? Something about me fainting, right?”

 _“Yes,”_ Nico acknowledged with careful neutrality. _“You have them less and less now, thanks to me.”_

Char tore her chilly glare from him to take a deep breath; running her fingers through her hair as she seemed to be considering his words.

“I haven’t had those attacks for five years, Nico. I want to believe that it was just a short relapse, I really do; but you know I can’t just keep… _losing_ parts of me.”

Char’s breath hitched on a fluttering inhale. “What did you even take that was so important?”

She watched him go over his options in his head. Whatever excuses or lies he had saved for this hypothetical moment; no doubt accounted for by his species’ abilities to pinpoint probability to an uncanny degree. His dark eyes matched her stare confidently. 

 _“I care about you,”_ Nico repeated, _“I really do. You need to understand that I would do… so many unsavory things, if it meant keeping Giovanni from hurting you, too.”_

His hand reached up to fidget with his whiskers, and he stopped the nervous habit in its tracks. His gaze lost a shade of its confidence as he looked away from her. _“And sometimes, that means… removing information that could put you in danger.”_

There was a pained look in Char’s eyes; her fists balling into a white-knuckled grip on the bedsheets under her. She wanted to scream. She wanted to throw something. She wanted to unleash her team and order them to be an extension of her rage, just like she promised never to do again. But, she simply didn’t have the strength to do any of that. What would it accomplish, with her bedbound and him with the power and authority to simply wipe her again? Even worse, he seemed to know _that_ , and it was the only thing keeping him here, looking back at her and explaining what he did like it was for her own good.

Char’s eyes lowered, feeling like she was combusting internally. Her heart wanted to jump out of her throat and strangle him its damn self, but all she could muster was a weak voice and an order that came off as a plea.

“Just... leave.”

Nico was silent, giving her one last, unreadable look before finally leaving the room. Char felt the barest attempts to contact her through the wall she had built around her mind, desperate and fleeting, before he withdrew from her presence entirely.

* * *

 

Char willed herself out of bed, and made the agonizing walk down the hall to quarantine; taking note of every vault door, every camera, every guard. As unchanged as the day she arrived. The door just before the lab area was manned by the usual pair or security guards, and for the first time, they stopped her.

“You don’t have clearance anymore, Jessop. Not without an escort.”

Char, still feeling sore and frail and heartbroken, had little patience to begin with. She matched the stony gaze with bitter resentment burning behind her eyes. “Bright called me in.”

“Did he, now?” The guard scoffed, and before Char could get a word in edgewise, hit the intercom button.

“Hey doc, the trainer’s here to see you.”

Shit. Char was in too deep to break composure, so she just silently waited, dreading what would be said on the other line. The click of the intercom turning on again rang through the empty hallway, and Bright’s voice came in through the line. “Oh, good; send her in.”

Char tried to hide her surprise, but she still shot the guard a smug little smile when he had no choice but to open the door for her.

Dr. Bright was half-sitting on the counter, without a labcoat concealing the thinness of his shoulders. The young man was pulling an all-nighter, and he looked like he was about to check out of it at any second, giving the trainer a bleary look when she entered.

Char felt like she was intruding. “Uh, thanks for covering me back there.”

Bright shrugged with a sad half-smile. “Nico doesn’t want you making any more ‘off the record’ visits, but I figured you wouldn’t listen to that for a minute.”

“I’m glad we’re on the same page, then.”

Bright half-heartedly chuckled, his eyes downcast somberly in thought. He caught Char’s attention again before she could limp past him. 

“You know, this assignment… it’s messed up when you think about it, isn’t it? Who makes a pokemon in charge of taming another pokemon? And what kind of pokemon makes their old trainer do that dirty work for them?”

“It’s… complicated,” Char admitted, “me, Nico and Giovanni, we go way back. He’s had his hooks in us for years.”

She took a much-needed seat at a flimsy office chair Bright wasn’t using, stretched out her knee carefully, and sighed. “Nico, he’s… Man, Gio’ broke him, plain and simple. I couldn’t do anything about it.”

It was getting harder for her to breathe, having to think about it. Char bowed her head to rest in her hand, to hide the sadness in her eyes. 

“I didn’t think he’d hurt me the way he did. I thought he was different, I thought he _understood_ that -”

She looked up and remembered who she was talking to. They both looked immensely uncomfortable for a moment, before Char sucked in a ragged inhale.

“... It’s been a rough day.”

“Yeah, I uh… I understand.”

Char shrugged at his tentative attempt at comfort. “You really don’t, but I ain’t holdin’ it against you.”

Bright gave her a concerned, timid look. The man was starting to look worse than she did, over time. Whatever his job was, it was probably just as agonizing to do. He may have not had a trainer’s brand of empathy, but he still had to have some sense of knowing what they were doing was wrong. At least, Char vainly hoped. She needed an ally in this hellhole that wasn’t also a prisoner.

Char chose her words carefully. “He’s getting worse, you know. Mewtwo. He understands his place, but the stress is going to kill him before Giovanni will have a chance.”

“I know,” Bright mumbled, and pushed his glasses further up his nose. He gave the corners of the room a careful glance, and Char discreetly did the same. There were too many eyes around them. Too much security was more to keep them in line, rather than the asset.

Char made a move, while she still could. “... You know, you could take me out for a drink some time. It would be nice to get out of the compound once in a while.”

Bright looked absolutely flabbergasted for a moment, and sputtered in response. “W-well! That’s uh, that’s uh…” 

He noticed the unamused expression on Char’s face, and realization dawned on him enough for him to get his shit together. “... Sure, I’d like that.”

Char gave him a little smirk, which screwed up a little in pain as she got to her feet again.

 

Mewtwo, on the other side of the observation window, did what he usually did in his cell: laid out miserably on the bed like he was waiting for death. He had his back to the window, and the sheets were over his head to block out the ever-present, always glaring overhead lights. Char wondered if he was truly sleeping, and if she was disturbing what little privacy he had further for her selfish need for comfort.

Regardless, she still entered. It was hard to make opening the door to his cell quiet, let alone make it anything less of a reason for terror. Mewtwo was woken up with a start, tangling himself in his sheets to bolt upright. His fear was a sharp, overwhelming crescendo that cut out the instant he recognized her. Then, it just turned bitter, and hurt. Mewtwo silently went back to his pitiful position on the bed, draping the sheet over himself again.

Char sighed forlornly. She deserved that kind of reaction. Mewtwo stubbornly refused to acknowledge her as she sat down on the bed beside him, and she tiredly fumbled over trying to appeal to him again.

“Look, what I said back there, I had to do it to protect you-”

 _“What am I, to you?”_ Mewtwo interrupted her, curling a clawed finger over the edge of the sheet to poke his nose out into the open air. _“Am I just a pokemon to you? Am I a person, even when you’re not just telling me that? Am I your friend, or am I just a job?”_

Char gave him a sad chuckle, and smile that made him poke more of his head out to look at her. “Not anymore.”

Mewtwo got tangled in the sheets again as he shot upright to wrap his arms around her, desperate for the kind of affection and reassurance she gave him earlier. Char felt desperate for it, too. It was hard to sort out who’s emotions were whose sometimes, in the chaotic feedback of their empathy. If only for a moment, they were no longer in some sad, utilitarian prison cell. They were no longer trapped underground by his captors. They were no longer two outcasts being used for their abilities. It was just him, and her, and the bond that had formed between them.

In the observation room, Bright watched Char settle down to lay next to the clone, and discreetly turned off the camera trained on them from the console.

* * *

 

The nearest town was Vermillion Beach; it was about ten miles away, demanding a proper shuttle that thankfully Bright could get a hold on. Char chose the seediest, out-of-the-way trainer bar in the area to drag him to. The kind of place where Rocket would recruit at to begin with. That fact in spite of her choice puzzled Bright, until he saw the sign in the shaded window that said ‘pokemon size 3 and under welcome’. 

The place was teeming with grizzled, older trainers, and their equally rough and intimidating partners. The majority of them were fighting types, the bar’s bias driven home by the fighting matches playing on the TVs set up around the establishment. Char took out a ball, and released her Hariyama.

Yanna took in his seedy, rough surroundings, and seemed to smile very slightly. Char lead them both to a size-appropriate booth towards the back; where other fighting specialists lingered and threw back mugs alongside their Machokes and Sawk, among other sapient species.

As the humans settled into their seats, a nearby trainer gave Char a sneer. “That ain’t a size three, asshole.”

Char barked back with an intensity that startled Bright. “He’s a Hoenn _three and a half_ , bitch; you wanna throw down about it?”

Yanna’s growl behind his trainer’s threat made the heckler shrink back. The scientist laughed very, very nervously.

“Wow, uh, you guys deal with that a lot?”

“In Kanto, yeah.” Char grumbled, the resentment in her voice running deeper than just one sour encounter. “The Hoennese and the Hariyama are considered one and the same. Coming to this shithole of a region and having to keep my family in a ball is a slap in the face.”

Yanna grunted in agreement, and grumbled something that Bright couldn’t understand for the life of him. Char gave the patrons of the bar another once over, checking for any signs of Rocket. There were too many trainers and their ilk, considering it was match night on the TVs, so she felt a little more confident in their privacy. What better way to mask your conversation than have drunken revelry drown it out?

“Alright, first things first: I don’t drink. My meds don’t let me.” Char smirked. “Secondly, I’m busting him out. There’s no way around it.”

“O-okay, alright,” Bright’s hands were already trembling, as he seemed to have the direness of the situation sink in for him. “I’m… not going to stop you, but Nico’s ramped up security since that escape attempt. Even _I_ need an escort to see him.”

“I know. I’ve been thinking about that. There are three things in our way right now: The cameras, the Master Ball, and Nico.”

“Just those? Not like, all the guards and security doors in place?”

Char leaned forward, the fire in her eyes going from an ember to a blaze. “You think a bunch of grunts are going to stop me? I’ve cut my way through more than enough-”

 **“Sister,”** Yanna cut her off softly, and she shot him an angry look that lost its ire as she willed herself to calm down. The Hariyama sighed, folded his hands in front of him, and addressed the man calmly.

**“Forgive her. Her warrior’s spirit has been darkened by pain, but I will not allow her to become lost in acts of vengeance.”**

Bright just blinked. “I- I’m sorry, do you know any sign language?”

Yanna sighed, rolled his eyes, and gestured alongside his words. **“Yes, I know how to speak in four-handed sign.”**

“Thanks… sorry.”

Char leaned back in her seat, idly watching the match on a wall-mounted television as she thought. “Nico’s going to be the hardest to deal with, but I think I have an idea of how to go about it. Next thing is something you’re going to help me with; I need the Master Ball.”

Bright paled. “I don’t have it… I think Nico keeps it in his office.”

“Of course he does.” Char grumbled, and rubbed her chin thoughtfully. “I have an idea of how to get in there. But it’ll have to be quick, and it can’t be picked up by the cameras.”

 **“The dog,”** Yanna proposed, and belatedly signed the word for Bright. **“He can just fry it.”**

Char shook her head sadly. “Not anymore, hon; they’ve really amped up surge protection with wiring systems these days. He’ll just trip the alarms.”

Yanna hummed resonantly, before his ears perked up. **“Fire, then? Make it look like an accident?”**

“Hmm... that might work. We can get Mercury to melt the generator altogether.”

Bright held up a timid finger. “Orrr we can try something a little less… dangerous? Please? I’ve got no love for Rocket either, but the people in there working with us are just doing their job.”

“It’s never _just_ doing their job,” Char glared back at him. “When you agree to work for a man like Giovanni, it’s not for the shit pay or the lack of any chance at power. It’s because you think what he does is how the world is supposed to work.”

“Tha-that’s... not true...” Bright felt put on the spot. “W-wait, then why would you…?”

He was shut down by a treacherous look from her, across the table. Char looked at her hands, illuminated weakly by the dim booth lighting.

“I thought this was how the world works, too; that pokemon were just here to serve under us. But I’m tired of thinking I don’t have a choice. I didn’t go through what I did just to feel powerless against a man in some tacky suit.”

Bright swallowed, his adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I see.”

“I thought I couldn’t do anything for Nico. I still can’t do anything. But Mewtwo doesn’t deserve Giovanni poisoning him like that and I’m going to do whatever I can to stop it.” Char’s voice wavered from emotion towards the end of her sentence, and it made her pause before continuing, rubbing her scarred fingers restlessly. “I already know someone I can bring him to, in Lavender. We’ll take the bus, using the Vermillion line.”

Bright quietly interjected. “What about the inhibitor?”

“The ally I have handles bringing Kazam into free territory, they’ll have seen worse inhibitor cases. But, you can turn it off yourself, right?”

The scientist paled a bit. “I… N-Nico has already confiscated the manual operation kit. That device is controlled entirely by him, now.”

Char slammed her fist onto the table with a sharp “ _fuck!_ ” through gritted teeth. It made the man across from her jump and shrink back. Bright struggled to say something positive.

“Well I-I can um, I can do something about the cameras. You just… do what you need to do.”

Char seemed to still be thinking, perhaps hastily reworking her plans. Bright had the sinking feeling that he just ruined everything before her face lit up again.

“That’s a good idea, actually… if you can keep security from noticing I’m gone long enough for us to get out of dodge, we’ll get a head start.”

Yanna nodded approvingly, possibly for the first time Bright had seen. Char cracked her knuckles eagerly.

“Alright! That’s your part then, doc. Just leave the rest to us.”

“So, that’s it?”

Char shrugged dismissively. “Of course not. I’ve got a shit ton more work to do. Also you’re going to give me another lift, later; I’m filling in my tattoo.”

The way she smiled, Bright had the feeling he didn’t have a choice in the matter.

The rest of the evening went almost normally; at least, for the trainer and her fighter, who seemed to fit in perfectly with the scenery of the bar. Bright just holed himself up in the corner, sipped a gin and tonic, and watched Char pretend that a night out was all she was here for. She yelled at the televised fights alongside Kanto trainers. Yanna ordered a gallon of beer, and joined her as she engaged in stand-offish posturing with fellow Victory Road burnouts. It was loud, stuffy, and filthy; but there was clear relief in finally getting an evening away from Rocket and the misery of the compound.

They remained until closing time, and by then Bright was exhausted. He ordered the shuttle back while an equally-tired Char stood with her weight on her good leg, eyes darting suspiciously between all of the other patrons filing out.

“You think we had anyone listening in on us?” Bright asked softly, as to not rouse suspicion.

Char chuckled. “We work for a fuckin’ psy-type; I bet he’s going to know as soon as we step through the door. Just trust me on this; you helped a lot already.”

Bright tilted his head at her self-assured smile. “What are you _really_ planning?”

Char put a finger to her lips, curled into a barely contained smirk.

Misdirection was the only natural weapon humans had against psychic power. The concept of lying was tricky; a psychic could easily pick apart a lying mind to find the truth, but someone who _thought_ they’ve been told the truth? That didn’t count.


	10. Chapter 10

Over the incessant buzz of the tattoo needle, the client insisted on making a call. It was very important that the tattooist would still be working as she did. The older, lavishly inked man just rolled his eyes, and kept coloring in blue scales onto her arm as she waited for the other line to pick up. Soon, he was privy to one side of a peculiar conversation.

“...Hello, Marcia? It’s Jessop. You know, from rehab? I need to drop a package off, you still doing parcels?”

The tattooist’s Smeargle painted a recreation of the Gyarados its trainer filled in beside it. It added a few personal touches as it played, most notably a mohawk similar to the one the tattooist sported.

“... Yeah, nah, it’s more like a large. No, no, it’s… it’s not that one. Say, do you still do, uh… gift wrapping? Yeah, I’ll pay extra. I can’t say when I’ll be in, you’re just going to have to wait for me.”

The tattooist squinted at the mixed messages this strange woman was sending, but said nothing. The client nodded with a few more attentive ‘yeah’s and ‘nah’s at whoever was on the other line.

“... Yeah, it’ll probably stay for a few days... Nah, I’m still working on that. Look, just trust me, alright? ... Nah, don’t bother. Yeah, thanks. I really appreciate this. Bye.”

The client hung up, and proceeded to spend the rest of the session in sullen silence.

 

As soon as Char stepped out of the parlor with sterile plastic over her sore shoulder, she turned a corner into the alleyway and promptly stomped hard on the burner phone with her good foot. Another step towards freedom was crossed off her list. The anxiety of the finality in what she had just done was at least temporarily soothed by a bit of violence towards technology.

They had a place to go, now. Earlier, they figured out a direction to go in. League Route 6 was going to be all forest; completely rural, especially off the beaten path. The day before, Yanna went and scouted ahead for a place to stash supplies. Char didn’t know where he was, and that was a good thing. Don’t let the left hand know what the right is doing, especially when someone could be tailing either of you.

The plan wasn’t perfect, but Char banked on throwing Nico off with that. The lies, misdirection, and planted clues she left would tell a bizarre and conflicting set of schemes, while the true plan remained fractured and hidden. Repeatedly, Char went over the false destination in her head, internalizing it. Pretending that she believed her own lie at every turn. 

The clock was ticking towards an uncertain deadline. The only thing keeping Giovanni from arriving at any moment was his other engagements, from what Char gleaned from bits of gossip and eavesdropping from around the compound. The threat that any day could be the day that she was too late loomed over her, and she could only scramble to finish what she started, as quietly as she could.

Sleep was out of the question now, as the stress gave her nightmares. She was used to that, but this time they hit too close to home. Waking up to an empty prison cell, with only Giovanni’s payment as consolation for the life she threw to the hounds. Getting caught by Nico at the last moment, and having everything she was feeling behind his back exposed for the world to see. All the ways Mewtwo could die. All the ways she could die.

It was making her miserable. Between the anxiety of her stakes, the fresh wound of her heartbreak, and the solitude that came with it. Her plot and Nico’s watchful eye wouldn’t even let her see Mewtwo, the catalyst for all that had happened. The reason she was willing to give up everything. He didn’t know what she had in mind. She didn’t dare give away her true plans to anyone who could be read by the warden of their jail cell.

That warden buried himself in his role, after Char finally cut herself off from him. She barely saw him around the compound; something that was both relieving, and worrying. She knew what she had to do, next time she saw him. It would be the riskiest and most unpleasant part.

 

It was three in the morning, and Char was going over the last time she spoke with Nico in her head over, and over, and over. She wanted guilt to be the first thing he’d glean from her mind. She kept an ‘ace’ up her sleeve as she approached his office. Char thought about it being a wad of tissue paper that she kept forgetting to throw out. It didn’t matter if he believed that; she just needed to buy enough time.

Before Nico answered the knock on the door, he scanned her, as he did everybody. Char felt a note of surprise from him, and the door was opened promptly. His doorframe-filling figure lurked on the other side, carefully peering at her like she was a ghost.

 _“Charlotte?”_ For once, the man who tended to have a snide remark for everything was rendered speechless. Especially as he probed between her heightened mental defenses, and saw the sorts of things she wanted him to see. Char invited herself in, and the Alakazam shied away from her. The once proper and groomed pokemon looked disheveled and exhausted, now. She could relate, but exhaustion and sleep deprivation took much more of a toll on the health of Kazam than humans.

 _“Charlot- Char, I-I know what I did was wrong,”_ Nico tripped over his own flurry of thoughts, _“I hurt you in a way I never should have, but he_ **_made_ ** _me-”_

“I know.” Char mumbled.

 _“You have to understand,_ **_you_ ** _are the one thing Giovanni can use against me.”_ Nico tried to step closer to her, and his face fell as Char backed away.

“I know,” Char repeated. “It’s okay. We can talk this over.”

Nico could tell something was wrong with those words, and Char stiffened as she could feel him try to probe deeper. 

_“Wait. What are you doing here?”_

For a moment, it felt like time had stopped, and she was frozen in place. Realization dawned on Nico’s face as Char held her breath, and let the ‘ace’ fall from her sleeve and into her palm.

Everything was second nature from there. The reflex of a quickdraw trainer, ready to fling their team at anyone or anything at a moment’s notice. It helped that muscle memory was so surreptitious that she maximized and pressed the return button on the pokeball before she felt Nico try to stop her. 

With a flash of blinding light, the Alakazam’s surprised and betrayed cry was cut short. The air pressure in the room seemed to change, and Char didn’t even realize she closed her eyes in the moment, unable to look at the expression on his face.

The pokeball was virtually unchanged in her hand, and yet it contained raw information comprised of someone’s entire being. All of her carefulness, subterfuge and fear culminated in this moment, and now it was done. Another step towards freedom.

Char took a moment to process what she did, thrilled and relieved and mortified all at once. There was no going back on this. She needed to finish this _today_.

* * *

 

Bright acted like he called for Char to the guards once again, and saw that the trainer was pale and tense. Wordlessly, she held up the minimized Master Ball. Bright went cold.

“S-so you dealt with-”

“Yes,” Char hissed hurriedly. “Do I have your word on the cameras?”

“I’ll replace the tapes as soon as you leave.” Bright wiped cold sweat off his forehead, and watched Char brush past him towards the cell. 

Char’s stomach was in knots the further she got to the finish line. At least she didn’t have to worry about any mind reading; now it was just Rocket members with their weapons and attack pokemon she needed to worry about. Hopefully, if everything went to plan... she was just going to walk out of here.

She felt the familiar relief from Mewtwo when she entered his cell, only for it to sour into doubt and confusion as he brushed up against her sheer tension.

 _“Where have you been?”_ He sounded hurt and worried. Char felt a pang of guilt as she thought about the days of absence she needed to prepare.

“It’s okay.” Nothing about Char’s tone and words was reassuring, and Mewtwo could only see through her and perceive the fear at the core of their connection. He backed away from her cautiously. Char knew this wasn’t going to be easy, but the last thing she wanted was to have to take him by surprise, like Nico. 

“It’s going to be alright, I promise. We’re getting out of here.” She showed him the Master Ball, to be up front about her intentions. Mewtwo cowered from it, eyes going wide from shock.

_“N-no! I won’t go!”_

“Trust me!” Char’s plea came out louder and more aggressive than she liked. Her nerves were getting to her. She took a deep, centering breath. “Just… trust me, alright?”

Mewtwo practically hid behind his cot to try and get anything between himself and the ball. _“Where are you taking me?”_

 _“Away.”_ Char insisted, and held out a hand. “I just need you to let me return you just this once. Never again, I promise.”

Cautiously, Mewtwo read the reassurance she relayed to him, and slunk closer to her, keeping an eye on the ball like it was a bomb about to go off. His eyes darted between it and Char’s bittersweet smile.

 _“... Okay,”_ He said with a grim nod, trying to put on a brave face. Char still felt a spark of his fear when she reached out to touch his face; she was betting all of his trust in her on this. If this didn’t work, she would be failing him, and it could be fatal.

Char maximized the heavy ball. “Alright, brace yourself… I’ll see you on the other side.”

Mewtwo looked like he wanted to say something, but hesitated at the last second; choosing to shut his eyes tightly instead. Char pressed the return button.

 

Bright turned from the monitor in the observation room to greet Char as she went through the door. “So… this is it, huh?”

“Not yet,” Char still looked guiltily at the purple pokeball in her hand. “I’m going to need a data transfer PC. You got one of those around, right?”

Bright gestured to the console beside him, and she perked up; popping a different pokeball out of her belt.

“Run these through a trade transfer.”

“Alright?” Bright looked confused, but still put them into the necessary docking tray and started up the program. Char leaned against the wall, and let out a harrowed breath.

“I got one more thing for you to do: I want you to return the Master Ball to Giovanni. That will buy us some time; not much, but some. Just… use the slowest Delibird, I guess.”

Bright intermittently watched the progress bar on the monitor. “So, you’re transferring him into a regular pokeball?”

“I’m transferring him into Nico’s. That way he gets unassigned from the Master Ball so they can’t use it on him again.”

“...Clever.”

It took way too fucking long for the transfer to go through. Each second ticking by was agonizing for Char, who suddenly worried about the risk that came with processing the data of pokemon not properly registered in League database systems. The League may have boasted about having a .0001% data loss risk with the newest generation of pokeballs, but it was still a fraction of a percentage too much to weigh heavily on her mind.

When the PC finally chimed about its successful trade, there was an audible sigh of relief between the both of them. Bright gave her the regular pokeball; now filled with the most valuable raw data in the world. Char held it like it was a priceless artifact before putting it on her belt, with the rest of her team.

Bright observed the Master Ball; now containing a significantly less valuable, though still powerful and unique specimen all its own.“You really sure you want to give Nico back to Giovanni?”

“Well, it’s not like I can just keep him in there forever.” Char shrugged, belying her unease with the concept. “And I can’t just take him with me. If he really thinks his place is with _him_ , then, well. Gio’ can fuckin’ _have_ him.”

Without a belt to put the ball in, Bright slipped it into his shirt pocket. Good enough. “Well, uh, good luck then, I guess? Don’t die?”

Char snorted. “Haven’t had luck with dyin’ so far.”

Bright held out a tentative hand to shake, only to let out a surprised little sound as Char pulled him into a rib-cracking hug. When she let him go, the trainer’s eyes shone with emotion bubbling up to the surface.

“Okay, but really, doc, why the change of heart?”

Bright went a bit red, unseen in the dim light. “Well, the way he looks at you... it’s proof that maybe we didn’t make a monster, if you ask me.”

* * *

 

Freedom was literally a short walk away. Char felt the hairs on the back of her neck stand on end; and it wasn’t just because she had Jupiter by her side. She packed nothing, dressed the same way she always did, and made no attempt to make her passage through the gate any different than she had done countless times. The guards acknowledged her with neutral glances, but the new protocols required one to hold up a hand and stop her.

“Sorry, Jessop; new security measures. Need to search you, first.”

Char held out her arms to her sides obediently. Jupiter sat and watched, giving the guard a suspicious look as he stayed at her heel. The pat-down was brief and sloppy; it had to be about four in the morning, so no wonder. With her history of going off at all hours of the night even before she started her plan, she hoped it didn’t come off as too suspicious.

The guard gave her a suspicious look as he righted himself. “Takin’ the dog out for a walk, I see?”

“Wouldn’t let me sleep ‘till I did.” Char faked a little chuckle, and patted the bristles of her Manectric. The guard yawned, and nodded sleepily.

“Right. You’re good to go.”

Char walked off slowly at first. Casually. After hitting the woods and leaving the guard’s line of sight, Char’s pace hurried a little. Then, it hurried a lot. After she lost sight of the edge of the treeline behind them, she turned to her hound.

“Alright, Jup’. Can you find Yanna?”

The Manectric sniffed a bit as he trotted to keep up with her. His pursuit of a scent trail led him in a few loops around trees and dead ends, before he picked up on enough of a lead to alert her with a yip.

“Is he that way, boy?”

Jupiter’s tail wagged eagerly in response, and he set off into the woods. Finally, it was time for Char to throw out her last team member. Mercury trilled happily at being let out again, and started poking around the forest floor.

“Mercury!” Char’s attention-grabbing command made the easily-distracted bird stand up straight. She gestured for him to turn around with a twirl of her fingers. “Piggyback time!”

To Mercury, it was all just play. He hunched over into position, and let his trainer wrap herself around him. As he was trained to do, he made sure to hold onto her legs, and adjusted his balance with the added weight. Char held onto his shoulders, and gave her dear bird an appraising scritch, pointing to the dog ahead of them. “Good boy; follow Jupiter!”

Mercury picked up momentum so fast she was nearly bucked off. In the slowly abating darkness, the Manectric led the way by illuminating the conductive bristles of his mane as a guiding light. The two pokemon kept up a jogging pace through the forest, past places Char recognized and thankfully deeper into rural territory. She frequently looked behind her, dreading a squad of grunts in pursuit, or god forbid, Nico. Was it really going to be this easy? Was she really going to pull this off?

Jupiter stayed on the scent trail for what Char estimated was a good five or so miles, which was about what she and Yanna agreed on. The sun began to light up their surroundings, the sky slowly turning orange beyond the canopy. The forest stayed dark, and would for some time. Jupiter barked happily as he got close, and Mercury joined in noisily before their trainer had to shush them. Yanna had made a light camp while waiting for her, and immediately began covering the smoldering firepit he was sitting at.

**“Do you have him?”**

“Yes,” Char sounded breathless, even if she wasn’t the one running. She hopped off the Blaziken to embrace the Hariyama briefly. “Do we have everything?”

 **“There’s a second checkpoint with the rest of the supplies,”** Yanna went to hoist a large backpack from its place in the crook of a tree. It was stuffed into a large iron pot, and he slung the straps of the load across his shoulders. **“I’ve scouted north for a half-day ahead. Found a shelter we could use for the night, off the route.”**

“Great… great.” Char’s voice wavered, and her hand trembled for the last pokeball on her belt.

Her fingers were numb from her nerves when she opened it. Part of her still worried that something was going to go wrong. Maybe he’d be a corrupted pile of mis-arranged gore. Maybe he’d be Nico all along. Maybe she was still dreaming. The light of data reconstitution flashed against the loamy forest floor.

At first, the scrawny, pale creature cowered into a crouch; covering his face as if he expected to be surrounded by horrors. It wasn’t until the wind picked up through the trees and ruffled his fur before he realized where he was. Incredulously, Mewtwo rose to his feet, looked up to see the sky above him.

Char grabbed his attention with a relieved, beaming smile. “See? I told you.”

Char was so accustomed to associating closeness with Mewtwo with hurt and comfort, with a bittersweet edge to any affection they gave each other. The knowledge of the eyes that watched them - and who they belonged to - made too much feel guilty, when it shouldn’t have. She wondered if this was the first time he ever gave her a hug that was as joyful as this.

Mewtwo’s purring vibrated against her chest. Char felt the indentations of his ribs underneath the fur of his back, rubbing down the subtle bumps of his spine. He felt fragile and tender, delicate and clean in contrast to everything she was. A cascade of gratitude and relief washed over them, impossible to put into words. The adoration in Mewtwo’s eyes briefly made Char’s anxieties melt away; let Giovanni try and take him. He’d have to get through her first.

* * *

 

On the other side of the vidphone screen, the prematurely-greying man looked pallid and sunken-eyed. Like he hadn’t slept in six thousand years. Maybe he didn’t; it certainly didn’t feel like Giovanni did. Together, they sat and stared at each other in an uncomfortable silence for a moment. Cyrus in particular was a cagey, antisocial man that Giovanni found particularly difficult to deal with. Meanwhile, the gang boss exuded an authority that made Cyrus’ hackles raise.

“Let’s get straight to business,” Giovanni clasped his hands in front of him in that subdued, fake-polite way. “We are not being recorded, bugged, or are in the company of a third party in any way. It has been my utmost responsibility to ensure our secrecy in this matter.”

Cyrus seemed to relax just ever so slightly from his reassurance. His hands trembled, belying an underlying anxiety as he tried to mirror Giovanni’s composed posture. “Good. Good, of course.”

“Alright. So, what are we going to do about this?”

“What are _we_ going to do?” The harried man on the other side of the world seemed taken aback. “It’s your project, isn’t it? I thought you knew what was going on over there, I thought _you_ were the one who had a handle on things.”

“Not here, I don’t.” Giovanni caught the emotion rising in his voice, and quelled it. He was _not_ going to turn into a panicked, raving madman like Cyrus. “Things are different; I keep… finding details that I don’t remember being here before. This time around, the project has been entirely different. I don’t even know where Fuji _is_ -”

“I told you something was wrong when the goddamn project has been around for a full decade before you were even supposed to commission it!” Cyrus’ hands quivered with more intensity as he had no qualms about raising his voice. His eyes were wide, giving a thousand yard stare that never sat well with Giovanni; it was like he had seen some horror he wasn’t supposed to witness. The worst part, was that may have been exactly what happened.

“I wasn't even _here_ until three years ago, Cyrus!” The boss bellowed to match his volume, and shout him down. “You have to remember, we’ve basically taken over our own lives. Who knows what kind of things we did differently in this timeline? We need to adapt, dammit, or this thing is just going to repeat itself over again!”

Cyrus hung his head, exasperated; unable to put whatever profane knowledge he was burdened with into words. “This isn’t just finding out that you drive a different color car now, or that there’s a different Prime Minister in place. If a fundamental piece of our original plan is out of place, the whole thing is going to collapse. That… _thing_ you made was the supporting pillar of all this, and it’s supposed to be your responsibility.”

Giovanni took a deep breath. He wasn’t going to panic. Panic was for the weak and frightened, the people without control. If there was anything he was going to have left, it was going to be control.

“Well, if this one is different… maybe things will fall in our favor. We expanded too quickly last time. We grabbed unwanted attention. Maybe if you had goals a little more _realistic_ in mind, it wouldn’t have happened in the first place.”

Cyrus grumbled like a child being scolded. “It was that Ghestis bastard who really screwed us. If we didn’t bring that cult into this, maybe we wouldn’t have gotten that _‘unwanted attention’_ so soon.”

Giovanni felt a chill. He still wondered if what they spoke of in vague terms could still hear them. Was it always going to watch them, now?

“Maybe we’re all complicit here,” businessman admitted, “but this is a second chance. Besides… we have proof that they’re mortal. Remember Archie?”

“The Hoennese guy with the pirate fetish?”

“The same. He disappeared after he tried to awaken Kyogre by himself; or, more accurately, he was murdered afterwards. They never found the body, and they never found the Legendary, either. Did you know Sootopolis is a pile of rubble now?”

“Yes…” Cyrus rubbed his chin, a fresh wave of worry dawning on his face. “But how does that prove Kyogre is dead?”

Giovanni leaned back in his seat, smugness creeping into his expression. “It turns out that the person who killed Archie has been under my employ all along. This… mercenary trainer _‘other me’_ hired a decade ago. Small world, huh?”

“Small doesn’t even begin to describe it.” Cyrus took a deep breath, processing the information. Looking just a little more like he was falling apart at the seams in front of the man on the other side of the screen.

“So, this trainer… they killed Kyogre?”

“Debatably. The Sootopolis collapse happened because of a psy-triggered black hole, thanks to the trainer’s pokemon. It’s definitely gone, and if her story is true, it’s dead as a Duskull.”

Giovanni chuckled at the incredulousness of his own words. Then again, far stranger things have happened, haven’t they? “Would you believe that I have her on the Adversary Project now? She’s psy-sensitive, and a career trainer to boot; I visited the quarantine the other day, and the damn thing was like a little Machop. Way more of a trainer’s pokemon than the last one, at any rate.”

“For fuck’s sakes, you’re calling it _‘the Adversary Project’_ , now?” Cyrus ran his hand down his face. Giovanni cracked a smile at that.

“Well, not officially, but we might as well embrace our old friend for what it is.”


	11. Chapter 11

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: death (child, non-graphic) and mentions of child harm

The morning sun rose higher on the very outskirts of Route Six, where the established nature trails of the forest ended, and the rough pathways made by wild pokemon began. The need to get as much distance between them and the compound as they could made the walk tense, and silent. As overjoyed as Mewtwo was to be free, the dread of an uncertain future weighed heavily on him. His anxieties weren’t helped by the emotional feedback he received from Char, where she still processed the dangerous task she was just beginning.

Mewtwo was still trying to take in everything as he walked with them, his attention snapping to any small noise he heard from the surrounding wilderness. The quiet was starting to grate on him, so he tried to fill the silence. _“So, what now?”_

“We walk to Saffron,” Char answered, probably the first time she let herself say the truth of her plans. “We’re taking you to a PSA contact to get that inhibitor off of you.”

_“PSA?”_

“Pokemon Sapience Association. Or activists, if you’re the League’s bitch and think they’re some anarchist fringe group or… whatever.” Char scoffed a bit, making Mewtwo perk up curiously. “Kanto’s kind of a dead end for sapient rights because they have one of the oldest League branches, and the most baggage. It’s a long story.”

Yanna grumbled softly, and not because of the load on his back. **“We cannot go to school, nor make our own wages, nor speak for what matters to us. We may make things, but everything we make belongs to humanity.”**

“It’s better in Hoenn, but not by much.” There was a hint of sadness in Char’s words. Her eyes fell on Yanna, and she frowned to herself. “I guess it was more acceptable like a hundred years ago, but things are just… changing. Pokemon keep changing. Each generation ends up smarter than the last.”

Mewtwo nodded quietly, feeling a small sense of satisfaction at the gaps in his knowledge finally being filled. There was so much they kept from him that he was now free to learn, and a storm of questions brewed in his head.

Char admitted she wasn’t sure of how long it would take them to get to Saffron. It had been a long time since any of them travelled on foot, and Mewtwo was entirely new to this. As Char trudged grimly ahead, following her compass, Mewtwo could sense that the one thing she worried would slow them down was herself.

They took breaks, despite Char’s restless need to continue. Mewtwo tried to catch his breath, and savored every moment not on his sore feet. The wear and tear of the journey was especially evident on his clean, white fur and soft paws. Char joked about him being an ‘inside cat’ while she cleaned small cuts and abrasions that had accumulated on his person. She seemed to take comfort in caring for him, over herself. He assumed she knew what was best; she lived with her body longer than he lived with his.

Yanna pointed them towards a shelter they could use for the first night, that he had marked on the map he and Char pored over during each rest. Char stubbornly refused to set up camp so early; she wanted to keep moving until they no longer had the sun to see by. This was harder to believe as the afternoon dragged on, and her limp became more pronounced.

While Mewtwo had the empathetic connection telling him she was getting worse with fatigue, but said nothing, Yanna could pick up on her body language and had no issue telling her off.

**“We should set up camp. You won’t be able to walk tomorrow if you keep moving at this pace.”**

“I’m fine.” Char gritted her teeth.

The Hariyama frowned, and his eyes flicked towards Mewtwo. **“The cat is getting tired, and we’ll need to eat soon.”**

Char looked back to scowl at him, fully aware of what he was trying to do. Still, she stopped her march, and the rest of the party came to a halt. “Fine. Where is that shelter you found?”

 

The house they came up to was dilapidated, but showed signs that it was occupied in the past. The far, far past. Char sent Jupiter to sniff it out first, and the group observed the state it was in, gauging if it was still inhabited.

“The door hasn’t been opened in a while. Look at all the old leaves in front of it.” Char pointed along the front porch area, where a few dusty rocking chairs sat motionless in an undisturbed sea of fallen leaves.

 **“People have camped outside of it. Look.”** Yanna jerked a thumb to an old firepit and some trash that had also been slowly reclaimed by nature; weed-covered and moldering. Jupiter took in all the strange smells the place had to offer, and barked about its findings eagerly.

“You find people, boy?” Char bent down to ruffle the Manectric’s neck fur. Jupiter squeaked out a half-yip in response, and his trainer nodded at the inflection.

“No? Is it clear then? Maybe it’s just an old pre-Center rest stop.”

Mewtwo took a cursory look through Juptier’s thoughts, and the hints he found made him fidget anxiously. _“He says he smells death around, too?”_

Char just shrugged. “Could be anything. Dead things can’t hurt us. Well, unless they’re ghosts.”

_“Ghosts?”_

“You know… pokemon that’ve sprung up from the spirits of the dead. They’re all over places like this.” Char gestured for her team to follow her, and she was the first to try the door.

She knocked softly, first; not really quelling Mewtwo’s sudden hyper-awareness that there could be ghost types around. Those were one of the few psy-immune types out there… and he was barely even a psychic right now to begin with. More like a sad, misshapen normal type, really.

Luckily, nothing decided to answer. The doorknob was old and rusted enough that it took little to make it crumble between Yanna’s thumb and forefinger, making them probably the first people to enter the house in years. The inside was barren, and dark. Sunlight streamed through the filthy windows and lit up dust that floated in the air. Most of the furniture was chopped up in pieces next to a fireplace that had long since gone cold. A few doors were closed to other rooms that Mewtwo was fine with never entering, ever. Char looked around the place, and nodded approvingly.

“Yep. Definitely haunted.”

_“How do you know?”_

“I don’t; I just assume every place like this is a little haunted.” Char gave Mewtwo a reassuring smile, though her humor seemed to fall flat on him. “Nothing wrong with staying on the safe side, of course. Might as well ask for permission.”

She gestured to Yanna to give her the green duffel bag, and she dug through the inner pockets to fish out a single, unlit stub of a candle. Her pokemon seemed to understand what was coming next. Yanna ushered the other two to get in position and sit down in front of the empty, soot-blackened fireplace. Char sat before them to place the candle almost reverently on the stones, and waved Mewtwo to join them.

“Even if nobody’s here, you have to be polite to whoever _might_ be here. They’re going to be the ones who really own the place.”

She lit the candle, and clasped her hands in prayer. Yanna followed suit and, following the context clues, Mewtwo joined in. Char bowed her head plaintively as she spoke to no-one.

“To whoever is here, or not here, or was here; we are only here to stay the night. We will not take anything, we will not leave anything, and we will respect your home as if it was ours. Do we have your permission?”

All eyes were on the tiny flame with bated breath, and there was a palpable exhale of relief when it only flickered once, and returned to a steady plume of flame. Char promptly snuffed it out.

“Alright! Settle in, boys.”

 

The fireplace was lit, with Yanna further breaking down the otherwise unusable furniture pieces for firewood. Jupiter and Mercury were sent out to hunt for dinner on their own, and Mewtwo tried to help Char get the rusted hand pump to a well working. The sun started to set over the little valley this cabin was situated in, and a chill was settling in after it. Summer in Kanto was slowly drawing to a close.

Char and Mewtwo took turns struggling with getting the pump to budge; it almost looked easier to just have Yanna tear it out altogether. As Char got more frustrated with the problem, it just made the gears in Mewtwo’s head turn as he observed the archaic mechanism. All it took was to dismantle the top, reach down for the plunger... and pull out the decades worth of old leaves and sludge that had accumulated above it. Suddenly, water from the well didn’t sound so appetizing. Yanna watched them the entire time, bemused, and only then pointed out the creek that ran nearby.

By the time dusk had truly come, Jupiter and Mercury came bounding back with their catch of a few Sentret. Char gathered a handful of young wild Oddish from around the house, dead from being pulled out of the ground before their time. Mewtwo felt left out of the group’s cooperative eagerness to take out the pot Yanna had strapped to his back, and set up for a stew. He wasn’t excited to eat anything that was… _alive_.

Char noticed his apprehension from their connection, but she wasn’t as gentle with him this time. “Don’t chicken out of survival. This is a good haul, and we only got so many rations for when we can’t hunt, you know.”

 _“I know, but it doesn’t make me feel better about it.”_ Mewtwo had to avert his eyes from Yanna skillfully pulling off the skins of the game in one gory pelt.

“You won’t feel better about it, but you’ll get used to it.” Char was firm in her tone, but she gave him a reassuring touch along his shoulder blades. He understood; she was trying to get him accustomed to this for his own good. Her soft, forgiving tone she coaxed him with back in the lab was replaced with a sort of tough love that he could tell she was more earnest with. He couldn’t just let her waste her efforts on him.

Unfortunately, trying to help with dinner out of solidarity turned sour for him when he was set on chopping the Oddishes. It only took one look at their wrinkly, under-formed faces for him to gag, and excuse himself. ‘Getting used to it’ was going to take some time.

He could either take part in butchery, or be left to his own devices in this house. This spooky, empty house. Why was it abandoned in the first place? Exploring what parts he felt confident looking through, he tried to piece together the puzzle of the past. The house was almost clean, save for the signs that someone had used the fireplace. The tiny, outdated kitchen barely had anything even left for pests or mold. There was no indication that trainers had been there, like there was outside. Another odd piece. This shelter seemed so stable, and empty. It _was_ empty, right?

Char was trying to debone a Sentret carcass, when a sound like a wounded Buneary damn near made her chop the rest of her fingers off. She was up before anyone else could react, honing on the fear Mewtwo relayed back to her just beyond one of the doors, at the end of a short hallway.

The clone had barely made it into the doorway. He was pressed hard against the open door, as if to inch as far away from whatever it was while frozen in fear. When Char rushed over, he grabbed onto her desperately; thoughts an unintelligible buzz she had to block out to see for herself.

The color drained from her face as she entered the modest bedroom. It was barely more than an old twin bed in the corner of a room, though the window had moldy, lace curtains. On the bed, something small had slept there, and had done so for years. The cool, dry state of the house allowed its skin to darken into dessicated leather, settled with dust. The dark stain of past rot soiled the plain quilt it laid upon. Char swallowed the knot in her throat as she recognized that it was once a child.

Mewtwo shook in her arms, terrorized by the still and silent scene. When he managed to think in terms of words again, he desperately keened _“We need to get out of here”_ , but Char stayed quiet. She pressed his head against her collarbone and made a soft, soothing sound.

“Shh, shh. It’s alright, you’re okay.”

_“This place is not okay-”_

“This place can’t help it if he died here.” Char pushed him towards the doorway. “Go on now. Go to the others.”

Mewtwo had a million questions, but the stern look in Char’s eye discouraged him from protesting. There was a somberness to her thoughts, because this was a familiar sight to her. He still lingered as he watched her cautiously approach, leaning over to inspect the body without touching it. Char’s face was grim and taut, fighting back grief in order to give a proper assessment.

“Well, it’s a trainer, alright… pretty young, probably a new kid with his starter. No pokeballs, so those’ve probably been stolen. Or, he had time to release them, I hope...”

 _“I thought humans buried their dead?”_ Mewtwo felt a little calmer for how she analyzed the scene. He hesitated to move closer, both intrigued by and dreading the sight of advanced decay. _“Did seriously nobody find him?”_

“They either didn’t have time, or he didn’t have anyone to do him the favor.” Char let out a deep sigh, a fluttering whimper escaping the back of her throat. “Laid out like this and no real injuries from the looks of it means he probably gave into hunger, or the elements.”

She bowed her head for a moment in silence, and looked around the bare corners of the room fruitlessly. The answer to her unspoken question came in the form of the curtains, which she yanked from their rod to drape over the body. Dust filled the air, and irritated their eyes and throats enough that they didn’t linger much longer.

Char closed the door behind her to see Yanna staring down the hall, and explained. “It’s a trainer who passed in there a while ago. Gave into hunger, probably.”

Yanna nodded grimly, also understanding of the macabre situation. Mewtwo began to wonder just how many times they’d seen a sight like that.

Taking out her pocketknife, Char etched something into the door. 

_TRNR GRAVE_

_10-13_

_no loot no pkmn_

* * *

 

The mood was a little more somber because of the discovery. Mewtwo struggled with Char’s reassurance about it; he wasn’t sure if he was comfortable sleeping under the same roof as the body. The fact that Char and her team more or less shrugged and went on about their evening didn’t help. Was this not a big deal? Was he making it a big deal? Ugh.

It didn’t help that as the world darkened and they became reliant on the firelight, the shadows it cast would shift and move out of the corner of his eye. Everytime he felt like something was watching him, he’d turn and simply see his shadow. Sometimes, it looked like it didn’t make sense for it to be there.

Char seemed to notice this too, but she saw it as a mild annoyance. While tending to the pot, her head would flick in a direction, and she’d glare at nothing before settling back down again. The jumpiness was infectious; she had to tell off Mercury and Jupiter more than a couple times for scratching and growling at random, pestered by something. Eventually, Yanna grumbled in annoyance.

**“There’s a cold shadow in this place.”**

“A Gengar, eh?” Char looked up from stirring the pot, and experimentally tasted a bit of the broth. “I was thinking more of a Haunter”

Mewtwo’s tail thumped anxiously against the floor where he sat, and he subconsciously tried to sink further into the corner of the room. _“A Gengar? Aren’t those really dangerous?”_

“Ghosts can’t help if they’re ghosts,” Char said flatly, as she slipped Jupiter a bit of cooked meat to taste. “Usually they just want to mess with people for kicks. It’s a lonely life, being dead.”

A few bowls were passed around, and dinner was served. It was unlike anything Mewtwo had before, having lived off of bland, carefully portioned meals given to him by doctors. The textures and the flavors alone made him realize how unpleasant the things he was eating before really were. Char smiled at how enthusiastically he ate, even dipping in for seconds.

“Careful, hon. Your guts aren’t used to outside food and water, you’re probably going to be a ripped bag of peat moss here in a bit.”

Mewtwo very quickly realized what she meant, no less than ten minutes after eating. Char tossed him a roll of toilet paper and pointed him outside.

As the last bits of stew were finished off between Char’s team, she occasionally peeked out the window to check on Mewtwo, now in intestinal (and possibly emotional) distress. There wasn’t much he could do except ride it out. A rather small price for the freedom given to him, she figured.

By the time his stomach settled, Mewtwo found Char again by the creek that cut through the valley. A little battery powered lantern by her side helped guide him to her through the dim moonlight. She was sitting on a folding stool with her leg off, and tried to soothe her aching knee using the cold water of the stream. She gave the clone a smile, the bit of relief from her pain evident in her face.

“So, how’s freedom treating you so far?”

Mewtwo sat on his haunches next to her. _“I keep wondering if something is going to make me wake up back in that cell again.”_

“I know how you feel.” Char affirmed. She glanced at him, gauging his expression; she had been doing it all day, admiring the overwhelmed but happy look in his eyes. He caught her in the act this time, and the eye contact they made had her freeze before pretending to look busy again.

“So, if you dream about being free, but then you start shitting your guts out, is it still a good dream?”

Mewtwo snickered. “ _I’d say it’s still pretty good.”_

He observed the little lamp and the seat she brought with her curiously. _“You really prepared for this, didn’t you?”_

Char shrugged “I can’t exactly go off with the clothes on my back and live off the land like I used to. Besides, I need to get you used to life on the outside.”

“Speaking of,” She held up a finger, and dug around the pockets inside her jacket. She handed him a pill bottle. “I got Bright to give me these. They’ll help your immune system adjust, hopefully.”

Mewtwo accepted the medicine with a bemused little smile. _“You could’ve given this to me before I ate, you know.”_

When they returned to the cabin, Jupiter jumped and gave them a warning bark, electric currents travelling up his mane. Char was quick to try and soothe him, ignoring the accidental shocks he’d give her from the contact. Mewtwo wasn’t sure how she could stand that; the couple times he merely brushed against the hound as they travelled made him yelp from pain, and left an unpleasant tingling sensation in its wake. Then again, Char seemed to endure pain on a daily basis.

 **“He sees the cold shadow in the darkness. It’s been toying with him.”** Yanna remarked, essentially unfazed by whatever was occupying the house. Mewtwo felt a chill of fear creep up his spine again.

“Aw, you’re still just a big ol’ scaredy cat, huh?” Char cooed, putting the Manectric at ease with her affectionate touch and soft tone. Jupiter’s tail sparked as it wagged.

Despite the occasional moving shadows out of the corners of his eyes, Mewtwo still didn’t see concrete evidence of the supposed Gengar. As the rest of the group settled in for the night, they didn’t seem to pay attention to it at all. Char unfurled a sleeping pad and handed him a blanket made of thick flannel.

“It might get chilly tonight. You wanna wear my jacket?”

 _“I’ll be fine,”_ Mewtwo said uncertainly, _“Wait, where are you sleeping?”_

Char pointed towards her boys, already arranging themselves in a grizzled pile of muscle, static, and feathers. “Don’t worry about me, I’ll be warm as hell. Yanna’s basically a radiator.”

As they said their goodnights, and the last lantern was turned off, Mewtwo curled into a ball in his sleeping space and occasionally gave Char a doleful glance. Part of him wished she was next to him.

 

Before he knew it, Mewtwo was running again; grounded and forced to scamper over logs and under tree branches, feeling the forest floor cut his feet up anew. Unseen hounds were chasing him, barking in the distance as flashlights centered accusingly on his back. The wilderness ahead was pitch black; he shouldn’t have run. He should have listened to her. He should’ve just went back. What was he going to do?

A particularly loud howl from his pursuers made him flinch, and suddenly he was back in reality. His whole body jolted, as if his soul had re-entered it with a shock. The world around him was dark, but his eyes had adjusted enough to see what little the moonlight granted him. It was just a dream… he was still safe, for now. Better yet, he was still _free_.

Mewtwo’s body felt heavy from sleep, almost paralyzed where he laid. He wanted nothing more than to readjust his neck cord to a more comfortable position. The most he could do was turn his head a bit and hoped it would take pressure off the ungainly mutation. In his limited field of vision, he could see where Char and her pokemon slept, and terror instantly coursed through him.

Something large and black stood over them, like a patch of pure shadow that stretched from floor to ceiling. It seemed to hunch over the slumbering Hariyama to peer at the human cradled protectively in his arms. Mewtwo shuddered fitfully, struggling to regain control of his body as his panic spiked.

The psychic relay of his fear was enough to make Char stir in Yanna’s arms. The shadow above her quickly rose up and into the ceiling before she could properly open her eyes, and she only found the shivering, terrified clone. With a sleepy whine, She climbed over her pokemon, and made her way to Mewtwo’s side. Mewtwo was still dumbstruck by the sighting, unable to explain himself while she simply embraced him.

“Shh, shh. It’s okay.” Char whispered into his ear, laying down next to him. “You’re still here, you’re safe.”

_“N-no it’s, it’s the Gengar, it-”_

_“Shhh.”_ She guided his head to lay against her collarbone. With control of his limbs slowly returning now, Mewtwo used what little strength he had to hold onto her. He could feel her cheek resting on the top of his head, and the sound of her steady heartbeat filled his ears. Slowly, Mewtwo willed himself to calm down.

 _“I saw the Gengar,”_ He could finally admit with a slightly clearer head, _“it was watching you sleep.”_

 _“I ain’t afraid of no Gengar.”_ Char’s weak telepathy whispered into his head. _“I’m more afraid of something happening to you.”_

Mewtwo closed his eyes from the warmth and comfort of her body, and the security he felt from connecting with her empathy. He could feel her desire to protect him, like a stalwart Chesnaught, from anything that may come between them. She seemed to pull her confidence from an endless font of courage, and it made Mewtwo feel all the weaker, all the more naive.

 _“I’m sorry I’m useless like this.”_ The clone sheepishly admitted. He was answered with a brief tightening of the arms wrapped around him.

 _“You’re not useless, you’re just… still figuring out how to be useful again, with the way that you are now.”_ Char brushed a hand over his inhibitor.

_“I don’t think I was really useful before they inhibited me, either.”_

_“Well, you’ve got all the time and freedom in the world to figure out what makes you useful. You’re not a prisoner anymore, you’re not an experiment, and you’re certainly not a failure. You can be your own person now.”_

_“Whoever that is.”_ Mewtwo sighed, and settled further into her embrace until he was boneless and limp.

* * *

 

Dawn broke, and Mewtwo awoke still a free pokemon. A sore and tired one, but a free one all the same. Sunlight started streaming through the boards covering the dusty windows, and he was further roused by the sounds of people awake around him. Still drowsy, he sought the warmth of the woman next to him, and found an empty space where she had once been. He looked up to find that she was already awake, dressed and prepared for the road ahead. Char popped a couple pills into her mouth and swallowed them before giving Mewtwo a tired grin.

“Mornin’, sunshine. You up to hit the route again?”

Mewtwo groaned, surprised at just how much of him was sore as he turned over. _“Do I really have a choice?”_

“You sure don’t. You want breakfast?” Char dug blindly into her duffel bag. Her search of its contents was drawn out a little longer than it should, and she withdrew her empty hand in confusion.

“Alright, who fuckin’ ate all the travel rations?”

The door opened, and Yanna came in with a freshly cleaned pot over his shoulder. He noticed Char’s mounting aggravation. **“Something wrong?”**

Char took to emptying out the bag, revealing it to be mostly empty already. “Okay fess up, who took all of the MREs n’ shit I packed? Mewtwo?”

Mewtwo shrank back from her sudden, accusing glare. _“No? I was asleep…”_

 **“I took nothing as well.”** Yanna placidly set to packing up their camp. Char grumbled with increasing frustration, and began checking in on her other two pokemon, looking for evidence that they had gorged themselves in the night. Mewtwo was simply confused, and a little nervous around her fraying nerves. He could start to see where that confidence in protecting him ended, and her tumultuous grasp on their situation began.

While Char continued to bemoan lost supplies, and Yanna was occupied with making sure they left nothing behind, Mewtwo began to search the house on a hunch. Ghosts liked to mess with people, right? The house was virtually unchanged, from the last time he looked it over. He could remember everything in place with pinpoint accuracy, owing to that advanced brain of his that he still wasn’t sure how to use. Nothing was disturbed, by man nor pokemon, except…

… The door at the end of the hall. He felt sick just thinking about going back in there. Yet there was the door, ajar enough that he could see a sliver of the sunlight that the body inside got to enjoy every morning for untold days. Arceus, he was going to have to go in there, wasn’t he?

Mewtwo’s nerves were a leaden weight in the pit of his stomach. He was so tired of feeling afraid, and vulnerable. He tried to think about how Char reacted to the sight, saddened but unafraid. If she had no reason to worry about it, surely he didn’t either?

Carefully, he stalked down the short hall, and nudged the door open. He dreaded having to see the body again, and shut his eyes as he poked his head through the doorway, steeling himself for the macabre sight. When he finally had the courage to look, he gasped audibly.

_“Char? I-I found them.”_

Char was bickering with Yanna about what bags she should or shouldn’t carry herself when she heard Mewtwo in her head. She rushed over, and found him in the dismal little room at the end, no longer cowering in fear at what rested there. He gave her a worried, but calm glance, and pointed towards the bed.

The rations, all preserved and non-perishables wrapped or in cans, had been placed neatly around the body. It was uncanny, unsettling sight, and it ignited a spark of cold, bitter grief in Char’s chest. Quietly, she guided Mewtwo away from it.

“Go… get ready to head out. I’ll catch up.”

Mewtwo considered doing so, but found himself lingering just past the doorway to watch her inspect the scene. He felt Char’s sadness as his own, though he wasn’t familiar with the sort of dread and resentment that followed it. The feeling of seeing something that angered you, and being helpless to do anything about it. Char looked around the empty room, and addressed no one again in a soft, assuring tone.

“Oh, honey… sweetheart, he doesn’t need it anymore. I know you want to help him, but it’s too late. We need this food more than he does. Do you understand?”

Mewtwo felt the temperature drop around them as his heart sank. Char wiped at her eyes with her forearm, her back turned to him. She really didn’t seem to notice he was watching her.

“You’re doing such a good job,” she mumbled hoarsely into thin air, “he’d be very proud of you, it’s been so long and you’re still looking after him.”

Char’s shadow moved unnaturally, sliding across the walls until it stopped on the surface beside her. Its head moved, looking straight at her. Mewtwo could tell that’s what it was doing, because two yellow eyes opened within the darkness. Thankfully, Char noticed.

“Did you do this?” She gestured at the food with all the scolding tone of a disappointed mother. The shadow squirmed bashfully. Its shape warped and twisted before spreading into a much larger mass, similar to the apparition Mewtwo saw. A cartoonish face grinned briefly, and its smile fell, its guilt sinking in. Char put her hands on her hips impatiently as she addressed the Gengar.

“He’d want us to have this food back, you know.”

The shamed Gengar closed its eerie eyes sadly, and its shadowy body sunk down the wall and past the floor. Char just sighed, and started to pick up the stolen rations. She looked over her shoulder at the clone watching her. “Help me with these, would ya?”

Mewtwo obliged, though not without an uneasy whine as he carefully gathered their supplies so close to the corpse. _“So it was a pokemon trying to feed its trainer all along?”_

“Ghosts get confused, sometimes.” Char noted as she gathered an armful of MREs. “Either they get stuck thinking they aren’t dead, or they just don’t want to admit it.”

_“Have you seen this happen before?”_

“Not something like this, but I’ve seen Gastly n’ such still buzzing around their old partners. They’re just like any other pokemon, they just want to be treated with a little respect.” Char shrugged, smiling in an endearing way that made the heat rise in Mewtwo’s face. He averted his eyes, only to shudder when they landed on the shriveled face of the body, instead.

They returned to Char’s pokemon, already packed and waiting on them, with arms full of supplies and triumph on their faces. Char grinned cheekily at her Hariyama companion. “Looks like you were right about it being a Gengar after all.”

She recalled what happened as they started putting the rations back where they belonged. Mewtwo wasn’t entirely sure if he wanted to eat something that had been so close to a corpse, but… he needed to be brave. Might as well start now. As Char took out her compass and found north again, Mewtwo gave the cabin another look over his shoulder. He wondered what it must’ve been like; to spend unknown years living with the desperation of trying to help a dying loved one, looped ad infinitum in the throes of death. Did they break that cycle? What would the Gengar do now?

As he turned his back on the ruin, his shadow lingered in the trees for a moment before deciding to follow him.


	12. Chapter 12

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: abuse, violence

Nico didn’t have time to process what he read from Char’s mind, before he was forced back into a state of non-being. It was hard to describe to humans what it was like to be returned to a pokeball. Some pokemon found it painful, like their body was violently squeezed by intense air pressure. Some claimed it was peaceful, like falling asleep. For Nico, it felt like there was no oxygen in the room, and he was stuck choking in the middle of an inhale, drawn out for what felt like an eternity.

It lasted forever, and yet it was over again in a second. He didn’t expect getting returned, so being released caught him just as off guard; sending him falling limply to the floor. It wasn’t the floor of his office. It wasn’t the compound, and his mind withdrew in horror as he could sense that the person standing over him wasn’t Charlotte at all.

Giovanni gripped the now-empty Master Ball with a pale, clammy hand that trembled as the reality of his situation sunk in. He forcefully spiked the ball on the ground with an enraged _“FUCK!”_ that echoed through the cold room. Nico flinched and cowered, fearing for his life once again.

“What the fuck are you doing here?!” The man demanded, already getting red in the face. Nico, afraid to look into his eyes, stared at the ends of his whiskers on the floor.

_“I don’t know, Master.”_

Giovanni reached down to grab his mustache hairs and jerk his muzzle up to face him. “Where is it? Where is the asset?!”

Nico let out a pained, keening sound. _“I don’t know!”_

His master let him go roughly, backhanding him him to the floor in one smooth, violent motion. Giovanni yelled with incomprehensible anger, and kicked the fallen Master Ball hard enough for it to pingpong off the wall and fly to the other side of the room. It was remarkably durable, all things considered.

Confused, terrified, and in pain, Nico decided it was safest to lay there in his despair for a moment, waiting for Giovanni to cool off. Around him, a few armed guards started to shift uncomfortably on their feet as they watched their boss. A scientist fruitlessly scrambled to try and grab the rolling Master Ball. Nico could recognize this room now; He worked with human engineers here before. That meant…

He looked around, and quickly found the other part of his contribution to Giovanni’s plans. The Suppression Suit; a full-body inhibitor that adapted to the psychic’s power for finer, more complete control. A magnum opus, and the stuff of nightmares for his kind. He worked tirelessly on its design, and on the anti-psy tech that it involved, but he never saw the completed suit in person. Part of him hoped he would never have to.

Giovanni must have thought he was Mewtwo, and prepared to have him forced into the device. Nico shivered on the floor, not wanting to risk grabbing Giovanni’s ire by moving. He didn’t need to, as the businessman turned his attention back to his pokemon.

“It was that goddamn trainer, wasn’t it? You _said_ she was under your control!”

 _“She was.”_ Nico dreaded bringing Char into any conversation with him, but she was now in the middle of an entire mess of her own making.

Giovanni ran his fingers through his subtly thinning hair. Nico could feel a sense of unraveling from him, more than just rage at things not going his own way. Things were suddenly going catastrophically for him, and he was struggling to keep his head straight.

“I should have fucking known you wouldn’t be able to keep your dick out of that cunt for a second. Have you learned _nothing_ from the last time?”

Nico hesitated to answer, and Giovanni continued to rant, pacing restlessly. “I can’t trust you around her anymore. No, I can’t trust _you_. You’re off this project, Nicodemus; I don’t want you anywhere near her or my asset. Understand?”

He could answer that, at least. _“Yes, Master.”_

Giovanni looked at the giant psychic crumpled on the floor beneath him. The most uncooperative specimen to come from the Bucephalus Project, who fought against his handlers almost from day one, was one of the proudest examples of what Giovanni called his ‘training principles’. There was nothing like putting the fear of humanity into some uppity pokemon who thought that they could talk back, just from having the ability to talk at all. The man sneered at the absence of a fighting spirit left in this sad sack of fur and ancient genes. Maybe he broke him _too_ thoroughly, sometimes. After the first time Jessop tried meddling with him, Giovanni used it to his advantage. You want to keep seeing her? Obey. You want her to stay alive? Obey.

He thought Jessop was just a two-bit pokephile getting her rocks off, at first. When he put two and two together with her past and Archie, he decided to keep an eye on her. Her training talents were a bonus; even without the threat of a loved one, Nico knew his place now. He was almost eager to cooperate, Charlotte was just a bit of collateral to hang over the psy-type’s head. Just in case. Just for worst case scenarios like this.

Now, this crippled psy-fucker walked out with the most valuable, most dangerous pokemon the world has ever seen. This was beyond just diddling one of his pokemon behind his back. Either Charlotte was a fucking idiot, or she genuinely wanted to end the world.

* * *

 

_“I’m telling you, it followed us from that cabin. I’m not just being paranoid!”_

Mewtwo flinched and snapped his attention to every shadow the afternoon sun cast. He felt the now-familiar chill on his back some time in the morning, and could only brush it off as the encroaching autumn cold for so long. The Gengar was mocking him, sizing him up and finding him vulnerable enough to be an easy mark.

“Why would they leave? It’s not like their trainer’s going anywhere.” Char shrugged him off. She had more pressing concerns, whether it was his nerves playing tricks on him or not.

Mewtwo jogged to catch up to her grim, marching pace. _“Well, you said that sometimes ghosts don’t realize they’re dead, right? Maybe you reminded it that it doesn’t need to stay with him anymore.”_

Something out of the corner of her eye made Char do a double take at nothing. She frowned in annoyance. “Could be. Best to just let it be, it’ll get bored and wander off if you don’t let it get to you.”

That was easier said than done. The Gengar was definitely following them; Mewtwo could see dark shapes in the trees around them, and the occasional flash of yellow eyes. It managed to bother Mercury so much that Char put him in a ‘time out’ in his pokeball; something she admitted she hated doing, but it was necessary to keep him from crowing incessantly. After Jupiter seemed to realize that the ghost wasn’t a threat, he became significantly less conductive (Mewtwo still wouldn’t risk touching him if he could help it, of course). The Gengar attempted to annoy Yanna once, but a single stern **_“no”_ ** seemed to be enough to cow the specter. At least, for maybe ten minutes.

During a break to catch their breath and get their bearings, an unseen force trying to grab a granola bar out of Char’s hand was the final straw. She lurched to her feet and looked angrily around the clearing they stopped in. “Alright, you shadowy sonuvabitch, if you’re gonna hang onto the group you better _at least_ show yourself!”

All she got in response was some distant-sounding laughter in the trees. Mewtwo felt the fur on his back stand on end. _“I thought you said we shouldn’t let it bother us so it’ll get bored and leave?”_

He tried not to smile at the annoyed look she shot him.

The Gengar didn’t leave, and in fact took to messing with Char in particular. Her increasingly short fuse as the day went on made for some prime entertainment for the ghost, gleefully pulling at her hair and clothes and mimicking noises in the trees. Jupiter was called on to try and arc an electric attack at the spirit, but it only ended in singed leaves and a static charge tingling through Mewtwo’s fur. By the evening, Char gave up, and took the stout candle out again when they set up camp.

They gathered to kneel in solemn prayer, and Char spoke banishing words to send the ghost back to its final resting place, to continue its vigil over its trainer. They were met with a tangible sorrow that clung to Mewtwo’s chest and brought tears to his eyes, unbidden. While her face remained stony and grim, Char wiped her wet eyes in frustration.

“Alright, fine. You can stay with us, but you better behave.”

The candle snuffed out of its own accord, and Mewtwo felt deathly cold as the large shadow of the Gengar rose from the ground, and presented itself to the party properly for the first time. Char had no empty pokeballs to capture the spirit, but she agreed to let the Gengar sink into her shadow, so it may live vicariously off of what it saw as a fun adventure.

Mewtwo was in awe of how quickly she accepted it into her ‘team’; or rather, her family. Then again, she accepted him in a way, didn’t she? That was still something he was unsure on. Was he really… her pokemon? Her training partner? His knowledge of what that looked like in practice was limited, and the different ways she interacted with her pokemon just brought up more questions. Mercury and Jupiter were more like pets, only able to understand a limited amount of commands alongside the intuitive notions they picked up from her. Yanna was more of an equal, a second-in-command who helped keep everyone together. Mewtwo didn’t feel like either. He felt like he was hanging onto them; only allowed into the group by her generosity, not unlike the Gengar.

 

By the third day, Mewtwo felt himself getting used to the routine of travelling. He was still sore from walking so much, but he could feel a little stronger each time. He learned more about basic survival, and even felt useful by doing his share in the group; along with helping them go over the map and calculating how long it may take at their pace. Two more days, he figured, barring any problems. Two more days and they’d be in Saffron, and if Char was right, they’d be safe. He’d truly, genuinely be free.

 _“So, they’re going to have to surgically remove my inhibitor, right?”_ Mewtwo asked to fill the silence, as they trudged down a narrow, rough Sawsbuck path that ran close to the Cerulean River.

“Yep,” Char answered firmly, “it’ll be worth it, though. The PSA has seen permanent inhibitors before; I told them that’s your case, so they’ll be preparing for it.”

Mewtwo shuddered at the idea, but a part of him was relieved that this was, for once, a surgery he actually looked forward to. Char smiled warmly at the determination on his face, proud that his initial anxiety was starting to harden into something resembling courage.

“They’re good people, those PSA hippies. Sabbie’s a bonafide psychic human, and she’s got a lot of love for the Kazam, if’n you catch my drift.” Char gave him a wink that he didn’t understand. “I’ve sent a few sapients over her way, and she calls people who drop them off at safe havens. Protected areas, and the like.”

_“And it’s all illegal, right?”_

“Oh, it’s very illegal,” Char grinned, “but the League set things up so being on officially free land means you get sanctuary, even if you’re someone escaping humans. One of the few good loopholes they’ve been using in their favor. That just protects you from League trainers, though; not people like Team Rocket.”

Mewtwo’s ears drew back. _“So I’m not actually all that safe, am I?”_

Char couldn’t spare him some comforting smile or words of encouragement, there. Her expression turned cold. “You get used to never feeling safe again. Just don’t let it take over your life.”

The clone wondered how easy that would be. Despite her words, he could feel the undercurrent of paranoia within her mind, dug up like so many bad memories. As Mewtwo grew accustomed to their journey, Char fell into what he could sense were old habits, and a mindset she was aware she was getting back into. Mewtwo felt as though it was his fault.

Eventually, their journey had to inevitably cross Route Six. Char explained to Mewtwo how it was more than just a maintained nature trail; rangers kept the main trails safe while allowing for people to easily look for pokemon in the forest. She pointed out the markers on trees they passed, ranging from red to yellow to green as they got closer to the pathway. The farther you strayed past the outskirts of the perimeter, the easier it would be to get lost, and the more dangerous life was. Char had strong opinions about what it was like to travel on either side of those markers.

There was something about venturing out onto the broad pathway of the main route that made Mewtwo feel naked and exposed. The trail was gravel-paved, and cut clean through the forest. It was empty, for now, so Char had them walk down it until she could find a mile marker to go off of.

The map was brought out, and they continued to plot out the course that would lead them to Saffron. Char and Yanna argued for a few minutes, as they had differing opinions on the safest path to take. Mewtwo just awkwardly stood on the sidelines. He felt vulnerable, being out in the open. He could just sense that something could go wrong at any moment.

His fears were vindicated when he saw a figure stepping out of the forest on the opposite side of the path, casually strolling down the route. Mewtwo didn’t hesitate to dive into the bushes in a panic, leaving Char and her pokemon to notice the trainer themselves.

Jupiter and Mercury eyed the young man suspiciously, with the Blaziken immediately taking a position that put him between Char and the possible threat. The trainer noticed the defensiveness, and seemed to bristle a bit himself. He released a guard dog of his own; a Houndoom, who did a similar show of protecting its trainer against any danger they posed. Yanna narrowed his eyes suspiciously, primarily at how Char stared intensely at the approaching man, standing her ground. **“Is this necessary?”**

 _“If he sees ‘Two, it’s over.”_ Char growled out of the corner of her mouth. The man got close enough to acknowledge her with a wave and a nod, eyeing the large, Hoennese pokemon whose company she kept.

“I haven’t seen pokemon like yours on the route. You on the circuit?”

Char squared her shoulders. “We’re travelling, we ain’t battlers. Keep walkin’, kid.”

The corner of the trainer’s mouth perked up in a crooked smile, scoffing a bit. “What’s the matter, ace? Lost a little too much to the rookies already?”

“You’re not talking me into a battle, pal. I don’t have anything you want, and you got nothing I need.” Char was firm, belying how much she tensed up around him. From his hiding spot, Mewtwo felt a chill pass between him and her. She was… afraid? Was this trainer someone to be scared of?

The trainer made as though to pass her with a wide berth, but it looked more like he and his hound were sizing her party up. A thin plume of smoke rose from the Houndoom’s nostrils as they sniffed the air suspiciously, and suddenly let out a warning bark that made everyone jump. The man instantly had a hand at his belt, and Mercury’s crest rose intimidatingly as he let out a low, growling trill. Char had to grab a handful of neck feathers to keep him from lunging.

“Alright, who _the fuck_ are you hiding?” The trainer looked as scared and defensive as Char was, but he made more of a show of it. Mewtwo tried to sink further into the forest, but he just made his presence known by the snapping of twigs under his feet. The dark type the spotted him seemed particularly upset at his presence; it _knew_ he was a psychic, and centuries of being bred with an instinct to hunt his type down was coming to the surface. A jolt of terror struck Char as the trainer declared who she really was to him.

_“Raiders! Get ‘em, boy!”_

The trainer pointed towards the bushes. Char held her breath, and let go of the Blaziken, not even having to command him to go after the Houndoom. Mercury ran on raw instinct, rather than battle discipline; all he saw was a threat to his trainer and a bare throat to lunge at.

“Jup’!” Char pointed the Manectric after the trainer; he knew what to do, his own reflexes and protectiveness over her kicking in immediately. Power surged from his conductive, glowing bristles as a warning before a strike. 

The man yelped, and stumbled backwards as he fumbled with taking a ball out of his belt. The current that coursed through him made him seize up and drop his pokemon before he could release them. Char swung her cane like a bat, and brained him with the blunt end of the handle. There was fire and hatred in her eyes, burning into him as the palpable relief of finally getting to _fight_ again ebbed through the paranoia and fear.

 **_“Stop!”_ ** Yanna bellowed, loud enough to interrupt the birds singing around them He went for Mercury first, risking a few more scratches from the bird as he put him into a submission hold. Char hesitated, and her shadow bloomed out from under her. Mewtwo watched in shock as the Gengar quickly sank into Char’s body; making her flinch and go limp on her feet. It pulled her back into reality from the shock of possession, and when it left her, the light in her eyes was normal again.

Jupiter still growled at the man as he shakily got to his feet. The trainer clutched the side of his head, where it bled. “Fucking raiders! I don’t have anything, just leave me alone!”

“Leave _us_ alone, you son of a bitch!” Char snapped back at him, her shrill voice echoing through the empty route.

The trainer hurriedly returned his Houndoom, who lay bleeding on the ground, and ran in the opposite direction. Char was still breathing heavily after he disappeared back into the treeline. She was frozen in place, a flash of horror passing through her as she realized what she did. It felt like the moment went by almost too quickly for Mewtwo to take it in, but he felt the staggering impact it had on her. The shared feeling of dread in the pit of their stomachs, from the briefest moment where she wasn’t in control anymore.

“Sh-shit, that was just a kid, wasn’t it?” Char kneaded the handle of her cane in her hands, as if holding onto something anchored her to the world. Yanna gave her a disappointed glower, and spun her around roughly to face him.

**“You promised us we wouldn’t hurt people anymore.”**

“He attacked first! You saw it!” Char protested, squirming under the grasp of his large hand on her shoulder.

 **“And if he didn’t, would** **_you_ ** **have? How many more must we attack before you feel safe again?”**

“I was trying to protect ‘Two, dammit! I’m not fuckin’ _like that_ anymore!” Char managed to wrest herself from the two fingers that held her in place, and stumbled backwards as Mewtwo timidly stepped back onto the road. She gave him a harrowed look, and the clone once again felt exposed from being on the cleared-off trail.

 _“He did attack first,”_ Mewtwo tried to affirm, _“and he had that dark type with him. It sniffed me out in an instant-”_

 **“This isn’t your problem.”** Yanna cut him off bluntly. Mewtwo felt the anger of betrayal burning in him, something old and buried and now unearthed to find it still seared just as hot as before. Between them, Char was still gathering her composure, with Jupiter sniffing her with concern. She gave the Manectric a reassuring pat, and assumed her gruff demeanor once more.

“We’re going this way.” She pointed her cane handle towards a spot in the treeline, and set off without another word.

* * *

 

Nobody talked much, after that. Mewtwo was caught in the middle of a silent conflict between the only two people who were really his friends. Quite literally, in this case; he served as a body to seperate them as Char lead the way once more, and Yanna grimly marched behind them. You could cut the tension with a knife, and it suffocated the already sensitive clone.

Char cut herself off from him in her self-inflicted isolation, afraid of connecting to anyone, be it psychically or not. Mewtwo didn’t have to connect with her to understand the mindset in her body language and the wavering of her voice. She was ashamed. He saw a part of her she didn’t want him to see. 

Eventually, they had to stop and rest, as the sun started to set over the Cerulean River they were now following. Mewtwo remembered following this river when he was on the run, but only vaguely; he didn’t have a name to put to the place, then. Jupiter scouted around an old, run-down fishing dock that would have been a campsite for trainers before the ‘official’ campsites of the routes were established. The threat of more human company would still be present, but it would be safer from predators than having to sleep in the middle of the woods. The way Char saw it, humans weren’t used to hunting at night, like nocturnal pokemon were.

Mewtwo honored Char’s need for space, even if the separation made loneliness creep through him again. It didn’t help that the Gengar, bored with Char’s sullen attitude, took to bothering him instead. He fell into a habit of using his shadow to interact with the ghostly silhouette that appeared next to him, against the light cast by the late noon sun. Whenever the specter reached for his food, he pretended to slap it away, and it scrunched up and pouted for a minute before trying again. It was begrudgingly entertaining, in an annoying way. Mewtwo could sense that the ghost genuinely wanted to keep his spirits up; they were travelling companions now, after all.

He wanted answers, but he dreaded having to bring the attack up to Char so soon, while she sequestered herself from everyone. Even if he wanted to approach, Mercury still laid his head on her lap protectively. The Blaziken would hiss angrily at anyone who got too close, be they her own pokemon or not. Mewtwo wasn’t too sure if she had a handle on him, or if she just merely learned how to direct his instincts. Regardless, he wasn’t getting answers from her. So, timidly, Mewtwo mustered up what psychic power he had to try and locate Yanna, instead.

Mewtwo had never seen Yanna attempt to leave Char’s side before, but now he seemed to try and put the most distance he could between them. The reason why could be heard distantly from the camp; a vague thundering, which sharpened into the distinct sound of mighty blows as Mewtwo got closer. He followed the sound, and eventually reached a clearly shaking, beleaguered tree.

Yanna worked up a sweat as he took his frustration out on a particularly large and sturdy tree trunk, which still seemed to shudder against his strength. Mewtwo still couldn’t believe he was supposed to be at some sort of typing advantage in the face of _that_. The Hariyama held the tree in place with one hand and hit it with another, like it could splinter if he used both fists at once.

Despite being occupied with his ‘exercise’, Yanna quickly noticed the clone watching him from the sidelines, and his intensive punching slowed to a halt. His broad shoulders slumped wearily, and he sat heavily on the trunk of another tree. One recently fallen, and freshly broken conspicuously at the end. He began picking splinters out of his bleeding knuckles.

**“It is disrespectful to show anger in front of others. We are not brutes, and we do not let our negative emotions guide us in life.”**

_“But you still have them,”_ Mewtwo ventured carefully, as delicately as he crept closer to sit on the far end of the log. _“It can’t be healthy if there’s a reason for you to be angry.”_

Yanna snorted a bit, glaring resentfully towards the ground. **“You do not understand the reason; it doesn’t matter how sweetly we speak, or how carefully we handle humans. The moment you reveal your aggressive nature, you bring your dishonor to all Hariyama.”**

He glanced at the timid clone, and subconsciously relaxed a little to seem a little less intimidating. **“Did she tell you to collect me?”**

_“Uh... no. I just wanted to talk, I guess?”_

Yanna let out a soft _hmph_ , and his glower softened a bit with a nod. **“That is my preferred solution to conflict brought by negativity.”**

 _“I guess it would get a little monotonous for you, fighting it out all the time.”_ Mewtwo halfheartedly tried to joke. He was met with a stony look.

 **“We take matters of debate** **_very_ ** **seriously, makuhita. We were setting treaties of peace back when mankind was still chucking spears at Kazam. Fighting is a ritual of contest, not conflict.”**

 _“Oh,”_ the clone went pink under his fur. _“Sorry. I don’t really know much about… many things. Most things. Sorry.”_

He wasn’t sure if Yanna was laughing at him or not, as the Hariyama rumbled in a low tone. **“The only way to learn is to ask questions, cat”**

_“Well, I don’t know what questions I should ask, either.”_

**“Start simple, then,”** Yanna suggested, **“little sister knows more about humans; perhaps I can answer your questions about pokemon?”**

Frankly, Mewtwo didn’t know what questions to ask about that topic, either. Having to ask about simple things just made him feel dumb. Yesterday he asked Char to explain an innuendo to him, and the embarrassment made him want to bury himself alive. Despite that, his question came out automatically, before he could stop himself. _“Why do you call Char ‘little sister’, sometimes?”_

This time, he could tell that the Hariyama’s resonant sounds were more of a warm laugh. **“Because I am bigger than her, of course. Family is what you make of it; I was raised by three sires and had nine siblings, on free territory. I was expected to train with humans for a few years, and return with wisdom and experience, as any young Hariyama would.”**

_“And you didn’t?”_

**“I did,”** Yanna admitted, closing his eyes solemnly. **“I abandoned Char when we were young. Her spirit was dark and violent then, and I could no longer keep up. Being with her was not how my sires said my training would go, so I left.”**

He watched the clone’s expression change, and grumbled with the regret of bringing something painful up to someone who wouldn’t understand. **“But, that was many years ago. Things have changed, now. I will not abandon her again. Even moments like this do not make her recovery any less meaningful.”**

_“Wait, what did she recover from?”_

**“That is not for me to tell you.”** Yanna’s reply was quick and curt. Mewtwo could feel unease associated with whatever it was in the past that he hinted towards. 

The Hariyama looked up at the sky, and gauged how late in the afternoon it was now. The sun was setting, and the woods were turning dark and foreboding again. Yanna stood up, stretched out his long, thickly muscular arms, and gave his knuckles a very loud crack. **“She overextends herself for you, cat. She’s trying to impress you. If her feelings for you are going to turn her back into a cruel and savage person, you’re going to have to be the one to stop her.”**

Mewtwo braced against the chill of a breeze, but nodded dutifully. _“I’ll do my best.”_

 

The sky was starting to turn pink when Mewtwo and Yanna finally emerged from the woods. Char was already at the treeline, anxiously waiting for them. Wincing from the movement, the trainer eased herself to her knees before the Hariyama.

Placing her palms flat on the ground in a bow, Char finally spoke again. “Forgive me.”

Yanna gave her a critical look, as if he wasn’t sure of her sincerity. **“For what?”**

With a sigh of defeat, Char gave in. “I was stupid. I let my savage heart make my decisions again.”

**“And?”**

“And I’m sorry. I’m trying to do better, I really am.” Her voice cracked. Her head was bowed with her hair in her face, but Mewtwo could still keenly feel her losing the fight to not start crying.

Yanna rumbled thoughtfully at her words, his expression not indicating if he believed her or not. The seconds ticked by tensely, and all eyes were on him. Finally, he answered her.

**“You shouldn’t grovel in such a way, your knee needs to rest.”**

Char laughed breathlessly, and grabbed the finger offered to pull her to her feet. She was yanked into his arms with a surprised grunt, and all the breath was squeezed out of her lungs.

Mewtwo felt relief wash over the both of them, and Yanna finally released the much smaller human with a gentle smile. **“Your heart is not savage, it’s just reckless. It always has been.”**


	13. Chapter 13

Thank Arceus, it was off-season for trainers on the route. Char wouldn’t have tolerated having to stay so close to the perimeter otherwise. The next couple of encounters went a little smoother than Mewtwo’s first experience witnessing a trainer interaction. The next one was a teenager who followed the tense and annoyed veteran for a while, pestering her to fight them. They only ran off when the Gengar popped out of her shadow to frighten them, which worked remarkably well. Char laughed at the relatively harmless prank, and told the ghost they earned their keep for another night.

As the nights grew colder, the days were met with more aches and pains on Char’s end. The travelling was getting to her, and the fear of slowing them down just made her more stubborn about receiving help. Yanna put his foot down and made them set up camp early so she could rest, losing them more daylight. Putting more time and distance between Mewtwo and freedom.

Mewtwo wasn’t as concerned with that as Char was; he worried over her more than himself, and it wasn’t like he didn’t also feel her pain. He felt her pain very literally, in fact. He would occasionally limp the same way she did, feeling his own knee lock up uncomfortably from the strain of walking. He didn’t hide his relief at being able to rest early, like she did.

He tried not to bring attention to his empathetic reaction and make Char’s insecurity worse, but it was almost impossible to hide things from their connection. It was too strong, too overwhelming. If one of them sneezed, the other would close their eyes and flinch from the same reflex. Mewtwo even swore he was dreaming of experiences he never had, in places only Char would have found familiar. Keeping secrets? Almost impossible, at least for Mewtwo. Char was still shrouded in mystery for him, but that was only because he was too intimidated by the idea of prying into her past.

 

Char begrudgingly sulked in the tent, and tried to sleep off some of her arthritic flare-up. Her bad knee was swollen and irritated; if a limb could be palpably _angry_ at the person it was attached to, it would be this one. Mewtwo’s empathy didn’t have the visible symptoms associated with the pain, but one look at it confirmed how it felt to him.

Watching Mewtwo try to act normally from her nest, Char eventually flagged him down, and made him sit beside her to share some of her liniment. It was greasy, and smelled too strongly of mint for his tastes, but it tricked his mind into a little more relief.

“If our pain is going to go both ways, we’re going to have to both do something about it.” Char noted, and wiped her slick hand.

Mewtwo rubbed the muscles of his thigh that kept tensing in reaction to the empathy pains. _“It was never_ **_this_ ** _bad before. Do you think being in close contact is making the empathy worse?”_

“I wouldn’t say it’s _worse_. It’s only gotten better, just for the wrong reasons.” Char shrugged. “You’re an open book, pal. You’ll need to close yourself off if you want to keep me from slowing you down.”

 _“You’re not slowing me down,”_ Mewtwo insisted, _“and I don’t want to close myself off from you. If that means sharing your bad days, then so be it.”_

Char’s cheeks flushed, surprised by the firmness in his answer. “Well… you’re going to be eating those words one of these days. You don’t want to experience the sort of shit I have to live with, and I’m not talkin’ about my bum leg.”

That almost sounded like a challenge, and Mewtwo wasn’t discouraged by that. He wanted to know her, as deeply as he could. He just couldn’t find the words to articulate why. Something told him that if he tried to explain it, he’d just make an ass of himself; and that was something he already did more than enough.

“Sorry I’m stalling us.” Char mumbled, snapping the cap of the liniment back on and returning it to her medical bag of tricks. “We’d be there by now if it weren’t for me.”

 _“I can wait a little longer.”_ Mewtwo assured. He risked a fleeting touch to the back of her hand, only to flinch when she grabbed as swiftly as a Dedenne trap setting off. His heart skipped a beat, but surely that was just his nerves.

Her grip relaxed, as she tried to mind his skittishness. “It wasn’t this bad last year. Last winter I was up north, and I thought it was just the cold starting to get to me.” Char settled back down into the nest of thermal blankets and flannel she made for herself, and stared up at the shadows of leaves swaying over the canvas ceiling. 

“Arthritis, that’s a fuckin’... old folk’s issue. All this shit I’ve done and all that shit I’ve been through, and this is what lays me low. It could’ve _at least_ waited ‘til I’m forty or something.”

Mewtwo settled back down next to her, if only to keep holding her hand. _“What did you think was going to lay you low otherwise, then?”_

Char snorted with barely contained laughter. “Man, We’ll be here for a while figuring _that_ out. Being declared dead for a few minutes should’ve done it, honestly.”

_“Wait, really?”_

Char kept up a smile, but a slight sense of uneasiness passed through her eyes. Their connection seemed to shut off a bit, like closing the blinders to a window. Mewtwo perked up slightly in confusion.

“That’s… that’s a long story. Probably shouldn’t have mentioned that.” Char said quickly, and pulled her hand away from his. “Why don’t you go help Yanna get the fire goin’, or something? Don’t just lay here in the Depression Tent with me all day.”

Mewtwo could see right through those metaphorical blinders, not even properly closed, and could feel her sudden dread and panic. He took the hint, and crawled out into the open air with a nod.

That was weird.

 

It took an unreasonably long time for Mewtwo to drum up the courage to get answers from Yanna, even if he knew that he probably wouldn’t get far. Whatever it was, the Hariyama had agreed to keep it secret. But you don’t just have secrets with the connection Char shared with Mewtwo; at least, that’s what he felt. If he was an open book, why couldn’t _she_ be?

 _“So,”_ the clone tried to begin, casually, _“Char said she… died? For a bit? You know anything about that?”_

Yanna, holding a few good, dry branches for firewood, gave him an extremely callous and unyielding look. **“That is not for me to discuss.”**

_“Yeah but, why? What happened back then? Was that when you left her like you said?”_

An expert swing of one of the branches Yanna held made Mewtwo stop just short of crashing into it. His armful of twigs for kindling nearly spilled onto the ground. Yanna was a bit more forceful with his answer, this time. **“It will become your business when Char sees fit. Only she may tell that story.”**

Mewtwo felt the heat rise in his face, and he knew his ears went bright pink. _“I-I just… thought she trusted me, is all.”_

Only then did Yanna lower the branch, letting him resume following the Hariyama. **“It is not a matter of trust. I can assure you, she trusts you greatly.”**

He squinted towards the treeline that led to where the set up camp, judging their distance and grumbling thoughtly before turning to the clone again. **“Listen, cat; you must never force her to speak of that memory. Do you understand?”**

The look he gave Mewtwo was, rightfully, terrifying. _“Y-yes, of course, but just… why?”_

Yanna stared at him, a dire growl reverberating between them. **“She is haunted by something she takes great pains to forget. Reminding her of it will trigger her sickness, and you are not** **_equipped_ ** **to help her with that.”** He tapped Mewtwo on the inhibitor with a finger tip. The kindling was almost dropped again, clutched by trembling hands.

A dreadful feeling passed through the clone as he connected the dots in his head. All those medications, all that mystery still on her end, compared to him. All of the hints of who she was before. He nodded nervously, and the Hariyama returned the nod curtly.

* * *

 

Juptier managed to take down a Stantler for dinner. Mewtwo still wasn’t sure how to take having to kill something almost every day in order to stay alive, but then again… cooked meat was really, _really_ good. Even when it came with the consequence of even more intestinal distress. Char started keeping a tally of possible allergies and intolerances he probably had. 

Being shown just how many things were edible around them while foraging continued to bitterly remind him of how badly he botched his last escape attempt, with no knowledge of how to survive. Char made it look easy. She showed him he she cooked their meals with their limited resources, and soon he was able to actually _help_ her for once. He was finally starting to feel less useless, the more things they gave him to do.

Char had finally left what she had dubbed the Depression Tent in order to hobble over to the fire. She and Yanna regaled Mewtwo with stories of being on the road in the past, when they were both younger and more reckless. Mercury came out of the woods, proudly showing off the mangled remains of a Beedrill. Yanna had to chase him down and wrestle it out of his beak, before he ate the venomous stingers still attached. Jupiter begged, and succeeded in getting Char to give him the lion’s share of her leftovers. The Gengar, wherever it was, at least was not an extra mouth to feed by virtue of their incorporeality.

Things were peaceful for another night, and that peace only served to sow the seeds of doubt in the group. Char in particular felt the constant, nagging fear that drove paranoid thoughts into her head, and by extension Mewtwo’s. If they really were being hunted, they needed to hurry up and show themselves. She wanted an excuse to fight, and he could feel it.

 

The tent Char had for their journey was meant for Mewtwo, initially; she mentioned she wanted to keep him out of the elements, and made no indication she planned on joining him. At first. The first night they needed to use it, the temperature dropped. It didn’t even reach midnight when a grumpy, shivering Char crawled in; missing his warmth, and their bond.

The tent was perhaps not made for two people, never mind one of them having a tail almost as long as they were tall. At this point, it hardly mattered. A dim crank-light was turned on, so they wouldn’t stare blindly into the pitch darkness and hope the other was staring back. The angle of the light illuminated every tired crease and still-forming wrinkle on Char’s face, and Mewtwo found himself staring again. Char caught him in the act with a slight smirk, as she had more than once.

Nights were the worst, and not because of the pain, or the chill of the cold front they were caught in. At night, they had nothing to distract themselves from each other, except the exhaustion of a long day. Thankfully, Mewtwo was usually tired enough to fall asleep as soon as he nestled into a blanket, but it was the moments where he was awkwardly awake and alone with her that were difficult.

He never thought he could feel so close, so comfortable with someone. But the sheer physical closeness between them, once something she coaxed from him as he grew to trust her, now felt like pins and needles that pricked Mewtwo when she strayed a limb too close. She was a live grenade, a sparking wire, a firecracker freshly lit; and he was just a dry and vulnerable piece of paper. This was getting ridiculous. She had to _know_ ; and his dread of having to face that made him scoot as far from her without necessarily being _away_ from her as possible.

Char saw through that, because of course she did. You just couldn’t keep secrets with a connection like theirs. If Mewtwo was an open book, then the pages were being battered by wind that coaxed the inferno ever-closer. He flinched as soon as she opened her mouth to speak.

“So, uh, you ever gonna talk about it, or do you want to stew in it for a few more days?”

Mewtwo had his back to her, as if that would save him, and failed to act innocent. His tail thumped against the material off the tent nervously. _“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”_

Char chuckled knowingly. “Yeah, I getchya. Take your time, hon.”

Mewtwo gave her a curious glance over her shoulder. _“Wait, what do you mean by that?”_

“I ain’t gonna force you to talk about feelings or anything. Besides, you feel like you’re one of those paper lanterns catchin’ on fire. I get it.”

Char smirked as she reached for the light. “Well, I’ll leave you to stew, then. G’night!”

Click.

At least when it was dark, she couldn’t see see him make an ass of himself. Mewtwo shivered from the slight chill of his very halfhearted isolation, and tried to calm his beating heart. Whatever this was, it _sucked_ , and Char’s flippant attitude about it wasn’t helping.

Was it a mating thing? Was she supposed to be a _‘mate’?_ Was he in season? Is he _supposed_ to go into season in the first place? How was _that_ going to work? Wait, what if this just a really involved anxiety attack all along? What if this was just a dream? What if he was dead? What if he was in hell? What if, what if, what if…

A warm hand calmly touched his shoulder. Char’s weak telepathy was a beacon on the horizon. _“Sweetheart, you’re spiraling.”_

 _“I’m dying, I think.”_ Mewtwo managed to tell her, through the maelstrom of panic that was whipping up unchecked on his end of their empathy.

He knew by now from the gentle snort behind him that Char was trying not to giggle at his expense. _“No, honey, you’re just confused.”_

_“That’s really an understatement.”_

_“Yeah, I know. Wanna talk about it?”_

Mewtwo glanced behind him again. His eyes, whatever they belonged to, could see fairly well in the dark. He wished they didn’t right now, because the look Char was giving him made his misshapen skeleton want to jump out of his skin.

_“I… I really don’t know how.”_

Char inched close enough to wrap an arm around him, nuzzling against his shoulder. Mewtwo shuddered, his heart hammering out of his narrow chest. She placed her hand over it, as if to try and calm it down before it busted out of his ribcage.They stayed like this for a while, as Char patiently breathed in, and out, and Mewtwo tried to follow her example. The storm abated, if only for a bit.

“Sweetheart,” Char’s lips grazed against his fur of his back as she whispered, “I don’t know where your feelings end and mine begin. I feel like I’m melting into you, sometimes. I get it, I feel it too, but,”

But? _But?_ Mewtwo’s tail swished frantically with unspent, nervous energy.

Char sighed audibly, puffing warm air on his neck. The hand over his chest snaked out of the sweaty paws that held it fast against him. “I’m no good for you, hon. You deserve to go out and see the world. Fall in love a few more times with girls more put-together than me.” 

“You can’t just fall for the only person allowed in your cell, that’s not fair to you.” And with that, Char separated from Mewtwo, and he instantly felt cold. Judging from how much she shivered, she did too. A stomach-turning amount of guilt was the only emotion felt through their connection.

Mewtwo felt a jolt of _something_. It was a mixture of anxiety, pain, and the conviction behind the mess of other feelings he was still workshopping; and now it was instantly set on fire from the realization that she was lying to him. Badly. Desperately.

He flipped himself over so fast he squeaked in discomfort when he bent his neck cord the wrong way. This time, Char had her back to him. This time, it was his turn to inch closer to her, until his lips brushed against her tattooed shoulder. Her breath hitched.

“C’mon, man; I’m a mess. You have enough things to deal with without worrying about me.” Char mumbled, weakly. 

 _“I don’t care. I want to. I want to worry about you.”_ Mewtwo held her tightly, feeling how her uneven, equally stressed and upset breaths rattled through her chest. _“I can’t do even a fraction of what you did for me, but I’ll try.”_

He breathed deeply and evenly, and tried to calm her as she did to him. The irony wasn’t lost on her, as he felt the reverberation of her quiet laughter against his chest. 

“‘Two, you son of a bitch,” Char squirmed in his grasp enough that she could face him again. Her eyes were wet, but she was smiling despite everything. “Fuck you for making me feel like this.”

 _“Oh,_ **_fuck_ ** _me?”_ Mewtwo shot back at her, Ears flicking up at attention.

Char snorted inelegantly; Mewtwo found that endearing, and every time he could catch her off guard enough to elicit that felt like a personal accomplishment. They both shook with fitful, nervous, overwhelmed laughter. Mostly at the absurdity of it all, and their entire situation; all the things that fell into place for them to end up like this.

How was he even still alive? How was _she_ still alive? What sort of cosmic design had to happen in the first place for them to meet, in their exact circumstances? It felt like there was a lot going on in the background of all of this. Mewtwo’s restless mind would focus on these questions without answers frequently; but in this moment, it felt like he found at least one piece of the puzzle. Whatever cosmic truth that felt like it should be obvious, but was so far out of reach.

Mewtwo felt serene in Char’s arms, even though he still trembled from the sheer power of what he felt in the connection between them. The warm, soft, powerful, raging inferno of a woman took initiative, and firmly pressed her lips against his. It took him a second to remember himself, and kiss her back.

Char pulled back a bit, as if to catch her breath. Maybe she really was melting into him. She smoothed down the scuffed fur of his cheek affectionately. “Still feelin’ like a paper somethin’-or-other, or whatever it was that you kept going on about in there?”

Mewtwo’s telepathic reply came out as a frazzled, distorted clump of emotions; unsorted and unlabeled. Who knows what he actually said. He sure didn’t.

Char grinned knowingly, understanding exactly what he was trying to convey. “Yeah, I love you too.”

Mewtwo breathed a sigh of relief, going limp against her from the sheer exhaustive force of feeling things. _“I figured it was that. Thanks.”_

Char cracked up. “Wait, what did you _think_ it was, genius?”

The clone grinned; her laughter was infectious. _“With my biology? God, it could’ve been anything.”_

“Well, we’ll cross that bridge when we get there.”

He still flinched from his tense nerves when Char draped herself comfortably against him. It had to have happened a dozen times before, but this time it was _different_. Everything felt different now. His whole world just changed in the blink of an eye.

* * *

 

Hundreds of miles away, A man lit a candle for a modest shrine. The tiny idol of Mew watched him, unblinkingly, as it did every night for years. It felt like the least he could do, having a lasting respect for the god that seeded life into the earth.

The silence of a night too cold for the frogs meant that when the door knocked, it echoed hollowly. It gave the old man a startle, and the candle light flickered in turn. Visitors at this hour were unusual; but if it was a trainer caught out in the worsening autumn chill, he felt obligated to see if they needed assistance.

He opened the door to darkness, at first. Stepping into the meager light over the steps, a very tall Alakazam made his presence known as calmly as he could. He wasn’t here to terrorize, after all. Instead of the usual shock or strange, instinctive revulsion most humans reacted towards Nico, the man just blinked incredulously.

“My word… you’re one of the Bucephalus boys, aren’t you?”

Nico spread his arms in a disarming gesture, playing off his unease at being recognized for what he was made to be. _“Subject N-16, ‘Nicodemus’. At your service... Doctor Fuji.”_

The recognition in the man’s eyes was clear. Nico had expected terror; instead, Fuji lit up with all the excitement of reuniting with family. He laughed hoarsely, delight spreading across his face. “Well, I’ll be damned! Well, come on in, please, you must have so many questions.”

He invited the Alakazam in graciously. Nico raised an eyebrow in hesitation before ducking under the doorframe.

The house was a bit small for a seven-foot pokemon like him, but Nico could see the appeal. Most of all, it was exceedingly mundane. Ridiculously so. From what the boss told him, he expected someone more… visibly unhinged. Fuji bade him to wait a moment as he dug through a chest of drawers, and brought out a heaping load of old files. 

Fuji handed Nico an old, grainy photo. It featured a line of six people in lab coats, all of them holding Abra the size of human toddlers. Fuji was unmistakably in the middle, with hair that fit the style at the time, and a few less wrinkles.

“I don’t know if you’re one of the ones in this photo, unfortunately… I mean, you are clones, after all.” Fuji chuckled good-naturedly as Nico gingerly took the photograph. “But I guarantee I probably had you on my hip while I worked, at some point or another.”

 _“Can’t say I remember you, what with repressing all those traumatic childhood memories.”_ Nico gave Fuji a cold look, and the old man held up a halting hand.

“Look, you’re not the first of your siblings who’s come to me. I know you’ve been through a lot. I never approved of our investor’s actions nor did I approve of the project being dismantled at all! There’s a reason I left, you know.”

Nico narrowed his eyes. _“Yes, the Originator Project sounded much more lucrative, didn’t it? Or was it the, ah, ‘mental break’ you reportedly suffered shortly after jumping projects?”_

Fuji froze, his smile faltering. He addressed the Alakazam in a low, cautious tone. “Nicodemus, who do you work for now, exactly?”

 _“Your old boss, of course,”_ Nico reared to his full height, and loomed over him imposingly. _“You know, the man I was_ **_sold_ ** _to while all my ‘brothers’ got put through private adoptions?”_

All the color left the man’s face. If there was anything Nico and Giovanni had in common, it was that they both inspired fear and revulsion wherever they went. Fuji fidgeted nervously against the intense stare of the clone he made.

Nico could feel the pressure starting to work; Giovanni was right when he said that the old man still had guilt for the abominations he was responsible for. He was even encouraged to get personal, if that would make Fuji more pliable.

Fuji took a deep breath, looking up at his creation with a sad, apologetic smile. “I understand. What we did was wrong, and I’m… _deeply_ sorry for you, especially.”

His composure had returned with his sense of responsibility, and the man gestured towards the chairs in the living room. “Come, please, have a seat; I’ll answer any questions you have. I have nothing to hide.”

Nico just stood there and stared at the former scientist. He picked through his current thoughts, and tried to get a sense of his motivations, his regrets, his fears. He wasn’t getting anything that hinted towards an ulterior motive. He was clean, innocent almost. Fuji cracked a smile at how the Alakazam froze.

“Oh, don’t be shy. Do you want tea, or anything?”

 _“Uh,”_ Nico was briefly at a loss for words, uncertain of how to take the genuine compassion being presented to him. _“... Sure.”_

He had a feeling this wouldn’t go as quickly or as cleanly as he had hoped.


	14. Chapter 14

 

A couple of papers were spread out on the coffee table, as Fuji continued to dig through his old documents for his guest. “We never intended for the dissolution of the Bucephalus project, unfortunately. We actually had plans to further your education into adulthood; there were even talks of legal citizenship, considering none of you were going to be _‘gym-legal’_ , as they say.”

Nico scanned the documents provided, a pang of sadness hitting him as he could see proof of Fuji’s claims before him. The proposed college education would have been in Alola, where the League hadn’t officially sunk its teeth into the local laws to deter sapient access to services. The training severance request would have been placed in Hoenn, where early retirement for Hariyama was more common, and the laws had adjusted to accommodate them. Nico swallowed the sour feeling in his gut, and placed the plans face-down so he didn’t have to see them.

_“The League would have found some way to fuck me, I’m sure.”_

“Well, you certainly wouldn’t be training-viable in their eyes. For one, there’s the obvious, ah, physical discrepancy; but there’s also differences in your median psy signature, your physical abilities, your brain structure…. You’re a time capsule of genetic information. You’re proof of how drastically the Kazam race has evolved, just from the influence of humans.”

Nico just fidgeted at the awe in the doctor’s voice, looking away from him and trying to focus on literally anything else. _“I know, I know, I’m a ‘relic’. Big deal. It just means I can’t find honest work, frighten the weak-hearted, and have to dodge punk teenagers who want to capture me.”_

Fuji chuckled, still thumbing through the pile of documented memories in his lap. “You know, I hadn’t expected any of you to fully evolve, being captivity-bred. Not to mention all that disruption to your juvenile hibernation period… did you have help with that?”

Nico sniffed, and tugged at his whiskers. _“Giovanni hired a handler for it. She took me to the colony at Indigo Falls.”_

Fuji’s eyebrows raised, straightening up attentively. “Oh, so you evolved the _traditional_ way?”

Nico’s ears flicked irritably at the emphasis on _traditional_ . _“Yes. Am I the only one to evolve?”_

The doctor topped off his cup using a novelty Phanpy teapot, and hummed thoughtfully. “You’re one of very few who’ve done so, at the very least. I don’t have tabs on all twenty of you kids, but I know Methuselah managed to reach it. He’s working for some special division in the League, last I heard.”

Ugh, _that_ asshole. Nico’s whiskers swayed as he failed to hide his sneer. _“Wonderful, happy for him. Just how many of us have sought you out, anyways?”_

“Oh, I think you’re about… the seventh?” Fuji counted on his fingers subconsciously. Nico could see flashes of his memories; going through faces of Kadabra, and one Alakazam flanked by some shady-looking League suits. Interesting.

“Some of them were looking for answers, just like you. Some of them just wanted to find sanctuary. You’re not the only Son of Bucephalus that ended up in a bad crowd.”

Good. Misery loves company. Nico took note of how… disgustingly sentimental the man across from him looked. It made him uncomfortable; what the fuck did he want from him? A pat on the back? Reassurance that playing god and not taking care of the consequences was no worse than any other neglectful parent?

Fuji seemed to note the slow build of tension around the Alakazam sitting on his couch. He studied him a little closer. Nico could sense the concern from him clearly, and it just made him more contemptuous. 

“Giovanni getting his hands on you is probably the worst case scenario I’ve heard so far,” Fuji looked down at his hands regretfully. “I can only imagine what he put you through. If you need me to help you get through to the PSA-”

 _“I accepted my place at his side.”_ Nico interjected coldly, glaring at the old man. _“Don’t patronize me with your empty words and your anecdotes about other clones with better lives. You’re too late, you_ **_had_ ** _your chance to show compassion and you didn’t take it, just like everyone else around me!”_

The table shook. Some of the framed pictures on the wall were tilted askew. The tea in Fuji’s cup started boiling again on the spot. Nico caught himself in a moments notice, and breathed deeply to regain composure.

_“I’ve no quarrel with you, old man. But I’m not here to be sentimental. Giovanni wants answers from you, and you better be damn lucky he only sent me.”_

Fuji looked at him like a man accepting his death sentence. “...I see. Of course. I no longer have anything to hide, and no reason to do so.”

_“Nothing to lose now, do we?”_

“Quite the opposite, actually,” Fuji gave him a sad smile. “I spent years rebuilding my life, reconnecting with my family, coming to terms with… everything. I’m lucid now, I work at a Center, I’m going to be an uncle soon… if Giovanni wants what’s left of my old life, he can very well have it.”

Nico examined the quiet sort of courage in the man’s eyes. He wasn’t lying, but he did have a faint hope that he was trying to appeal to the Alakazam’s heart, wherever it was.

 _“Alright then, we can do this the easy way, or the hard way.”_ Nico relaxed on the couch, even if the back was a bit too short for him to lean back comfortably. _“The easy way is going to be just spilling the beans, of course. The hard way is going to be me wrenching your mind apart and simply taking the relevant information, then leaving you to pick up the pieces. Of course, that’s actually the easy way for_ **_me_ ** _.”_ Nico bared his canine teeth in a smug grin.

Fuji looked suitably cowed. “What do you want to know?”

_“What exactly happened on the Originator Project that was bad enough to send you to a psych ward for five years?”_

Fuji’s eyes darted briefly towards the shrine. He took a deep, centering breath. “You genuinely wouldn’t believe me if I told you.”

_“You’d be surprised.”_

The doctor’s shoulders sagged with the weight of his memories, all being brought to the surface.

“It started out as simply exploring the lengths to which we could isolate the genome provided by the alleged Mew sample. After the success of the Bucephalus Project, we thought we were simply taking it to the next level, bringing back some prehistoric species previously unconfirmed by science. Then, Giovanni got involved, and…”

Revulsion and fear colored his thoughts. Sweat beaded on his forehead. “We didn’t even start on his proposal yet, and I was getting nightmares about it. All this destruction, all this death and suffering, it would all be because of whatever I created for him. It was more than just my nerves, it was like I was being _warned_.”

Nico cocked an eyebrow at him. _“A premonition, would you say?”_

“I don’t know, but… it wasn’t just that. It was like I was there, watching it all crumble around me; trying to stop it, reason with it, _anything_. But it was too late. It wasn’t just the clone. It was like the gods themselves had turned on humanity because we made this last fatal offense towards them. And it was my fault, it was all my fault…”

Fuji curled forward, face in his hands, breathing raggedly through the re-processing of the enormity of his revelations. Nico could see flashes of the horrors he foresaw, and he faced them with a straight face. Just garbled, apocalyptic nonsense. Could have been any sort of night terror. A brief frame in the ‘footage’ of Fuji’s recollection stood out, though; A white, bipedal pokemon. They had large and piercing eyes that stared through Fuji, as if they could tell Nico was metaphorically on the other side of the two-way mirror.

“It’s my fault,” Fuji continued to sob, “I put them through this. I let Giovanni use them like that, I had to watch everything fall apart…”

 _“It was a dream, doctor, you didn’t do anything._ ”

“I was _there_ , dammit! _It was real!_ ” Fuji shouted, eyes bloodshot and wild as he stopped being the lucid and collected man Nico met earlier. He crumbled again immediately, guilt and shame dripping off of him, seemingly completely dedicated to his delusion.

“It already happened, Nicodemus, you have to believe me… I couldn’t go through it again. I was given a chance to stop it, and I did.”

Nico struggled to make sense of the jumbled information he was receiving, made even more distorted by the effects of extreme emotion and stress on a psychic reading. _“So, a prophetic dream told you of the monster you would set on the world, so you left to wash your hands of your part in it?_

“No, dammit, it’s worse than that! It wasn’t a vision, it was a memory! I’ve been through all of this before! Then something _happened_ … I don’t know why, but I was given a second chance. _We_ were given a second chance.”

Nico tried not to groan at the man’s ‘revelation’. No wonder Giovanni emphasized attempting just a full, invasive information sweep instead of an interrogation. _“Dreams can make you feel like you’ve lived a lifetime in them. It’s normal. You were daunted by the task Giovanni gave you, and your brain conjured up a fantasy scenario. You’ve been formally diagnosed with schizotypal personality disorder before, and you had a breakdown from stress.”_

“You’re just like all the others,” Fuji rubbed his temples in exasperation, “but I know what I saw. I saw the Adversary of Arceus’ creation, the mockery of Myuu’s divine purity. We created the monster that destroyed the world!”

Absolutely none of this made sense. Nico was pretty sure Fuji was making all of this up as he went along, now. _“Right. Okay. So that’s why you destroyed all of the original data from the Originator Project? Are you at peace now, knowing the monster you were fated to create will never be?”_

Fuji tried to slow his ragged breathing, and shakily poured himself more tea in an attempt to collect himself again. “I feel like no matter what I do, what’s done is done. I want no part in any of this madness anymore. I’ll do what I can to help the Kazam displaced by the dissolution of the Bucephalus Project, but if Giovanni wants me to be a part of his schemes, well, he might as well just put me out of my misery.”

 _“Giovanni merely wanted closure,“_ Nico reassured. _“He only recently rediscovered your whereabouts after you dropped off the face of the earth back then.”_

“Are you sure it was _him_ who wanted closure?” Fuji gave him a knowing look, and the Alakazam’s ears flicked in annoyance.

 _“I’m_ **_not_ ** _here for sentimentality. I took this task because I knew Giovanni would just have you murdered and your house ransacked, if he sent anyone else.”_ Nico averted his eyes stubbornly from the smile Fuji gave him. The doctor chuckled, and rifled through a handful of pictures he dug out of the Bucephalus Project documents one last time.

“I know that I didn’t exactly give you anything useful to relay to him, but I appreciate not being murdered all the same. I wish I could do something for you, Nicodemus, I really do, but I know we all have our masters. I’m sorry yours has to be him.”

 _“Hmph.”_ Nico crossed his arms impudently, but his attention was still grabbed by Fuji fishing out another old photograph to hand to him.

“You can keep this, if you like, but you don’t have to.” The doctor gave him a bittersweet smile, and Nico gave it a closer look. It was one with just Fuji this time, proudly holding a newborn Abra kit that grabbed at his lab coat and slept serenely against his chest. The picture was labeled _‘N-16’_.

 _Ugh._ Nico growled lowly to try and mask the feeling of his chest tightening, staring intensely at the picture for a moment. He still took it. _“...Thanks.”_

Fuji grinned, and Nico had to clench his fists with the effort of resisting the urge to tear out more whisker hairs. He was furious at the man who only pretended to be his father now, and yet, he really _did_ feel grateful to get to see him. It wasn’t a feeling he was used to having. Why couldn’t this man fear or hate or look down on him, like everyone else?

Nico observed the exhaustion in the man’s eyes and the clouded quality of his thoughts, and felt an unwanted pang of guilt for bringing up something so traumatizing. It may have been madness kept behind a veil of innocuous domesticity, but they were still things Fuji would have rather gone the rest of his life without thinking about again. Giovanni wanted him ‘wiped clean’, but that would have erased the reunion they had. The Alakazam sighed, and he made an… unorthodox decision.

_“I’m sorry to have to put you through those unwanted memories again. If you fear this will continue to haunt you, I could… prune those parts of our conversation from your memory, if you wish.”_

Fuji raised an eyebrow. “Are you sure that’s the reason you’re doing it?”

_“My Master wanted a complete erasment of our encounter, if not all of the sensitive information concerning Team Rocket that you have retained. I only ask if I could keep you from having nightmares about this.”_

Fuji looked caught off guard by the offer, and suspicion bubbled up in his mind. He was having to remind himself that Nico was Giovanni’s pokemon, first and foremost. How much of this was _really_ Nico extending an olive branch?

“I don’t know if you can, but... you can try.” 

Cautiously, Nico brought a hand to the man’s head, establishing the physical connection that focused his abilities. _“Just relax, I’ll have you know I have somewhat of a talent for this.”_

Fuji laughed nervously. “That’s not terribly reassuring.”

Then, he went limp; held frozen in place by telekinesis, lest he crumple to the floor. Nico assessed the last twenty or so minutes they spent together, picked out the damning bits, and sewed the empty spaces back up. It was a quick, straightforward task, but of course, he still had his job to do.

Nico didn’t know how Giovanni would react to Fuji’s mad ramblings as the only answer he could get out of the doctor. Even looking deeper, he saw no ulterior motive behind his severance from the project. One day he just simply… _broke_. It felt unnatural; as if this was some planted memory. Maybe that was why he was so convinced of it.

But that creature, the Mewtwo Fuji’s imagination seemingly conjured up, had to have been the ultimate expression of the doctor’s guilt and fear. It was simply chilling, as even a brief glimpse of its eyes stuck with Nico longer than he’d like to admit. For a figment of a human’s troubled imagination, the emotion it conveyed was sickeningly real. He almost preferred the mutant that ran off with Char.

When he decided this was the best he was going to get, Nico severed the connection, and draped the hypnotized body of Fuji comfortably in his chair. A snap of the Alakazam’s fingers jolted him awake.

“Hm?! What?” He sprung upright, looking around with wide eyes before settling on his guest on the couch. Recognizing Nico, he visibly relaxed. “Oh, sorry, did I just doze off? It’s terribly late for me.”

Nico gave him a calm smile. _“You did, but I thought it rude to just leave without saying goodbye.”_

Despite how awkward and bizarre it felt, Nico allowed Fuji to see him off at the door, like he was some sort of _person_ . The doctor looked up at him with a genuine sort of happiness he simply wasn’t used to. People just received this sort of treatment from their creators _naturally?_

“You take care of yourself out there, alright?”

 _“Right.”_ Nico had no idea how to respond to things like this in a normal way. At least Char gave him opportunity to meet any of her affection with a jab or a snark, so he could deflect how little he knew about returning his feelings.

Timidly, he returned the little wave the man gave him before the door was closed. Then he was alone again. In the dark, with only the photograph in his hand to remind him that this surreal encounter happened.

* * *

Nico’s positive - if not confusing - takeaway from visiting his creator made having to return to Giovanni all the more difficult. Coming back with just a metaphorical box of essentially insane ramblings wasn’t a great look. Especially now, while Giovanni was still… fragile.

When Nico left, the gang boss was anxiously waiting for a visitor of his own. He was here when the Alakazam teleported back; a harrowed-looking man with graying hair, who gave Nico a wide stare upon noticing him. His thoughts were cluttered by stress and a sense of impending doom; there was no doubt that Giovanni was dealing with the same anxiety, just with more of a curt and irritable composure.

Giovanni had dark circles under his eyes, but continued to stand proud and imposing while facing the much taller pokemon. “ _Finally_. Cyrus, this is the agent I spoke of. Nicodemus, this is my associate, Cyrus.”

Cyrus gave Nico a scrutinizing stare, looking him up and down. “Fascinating. I don’t remember you-”

Giovanni rather loudly and deliberately interrupted the disheveled man’s mumbling. “So, what do you have to report?”

 _“Nothing very... substantial, I’m afraid.”_ Nico wasn’t sure if he should, or could, lie about Fuji’s information. Giovanni was understandably temperamental lately, and Nico wasn’t excited about the prospect of a second visit to that nice cottage being for the purpose of taking a hit out.

“Well? Out with it.”

_“Dr. Fuji is alive and well; he really did have a mental break some twenty-five years back. It’s the only reason for his resignation and subsequent radio silence that I could find.”_

Cyrus was still staring at him, uncomfortably. “A mental break, you say?”

_“Yes… just hallucinations coming to a head. He foresaw what he thought would be something of an apocalyptic event springing from Mewtwo’s creation.”_

Nico mentioned it irreverently, but the looks he received from the men were deathly, disconcertingly serious. He could feel the tension radiating off of them become unbearably tight. There was a hollow, dire tone to Giovanni’s voice, even if his expression stayed stubbornly calm. “I want the full report on it in the morning. Transcripts, visual recreations, _everything_. Every detail.”

Nico tilted his head in confusion at the order. _“I thought it to merely be a recurring nightmare.”_

“Don’t _question_ me,” Giovanni snapped, holding a finger up at the flinching Alakazam. “You were there to gather information, not give me your opinions on it.”

 _“Of course, Master.”_ Nico lowered his eyes, and subconsciously shrank back from the man’s glare.

Giovanni nodded, satisfied with the submissiveness of his pokemon. “Good. Cyrus? Join me in my office, please.” He gestured to Cyrus to follow him. The greying man was startled out of a distracted lull, and hesitated as his well-dressed accomplice confidently strolled past him. He cautiously approached Nico, his own posture bent and cowering. His voice was a hoarse whisper.

“The... the Mew clone, what did it look like, exactly?”

Nico did a double take at the question. _“It was pale, hairless, bipedal. Short snout, large eyes; more like the old depictions of Mew, if you put them through a funhouse mirror, perhaps.”_

Cyrus took a deep, hollow breath, and nodded sadly. Like a man being told the death count of an ongoing disaster. “I see, I see.”

He turned and walked back to Giovanni without another word, and Nico watched them in dumbfounded silence. If he didn’t know any better, he could have sworn he saw a flash of that same destruction, and those same eyes, within the passing read of the man’s thoughts.

The Alakazam shook those foolish thoughts from his head. Fuji’s madness must have rubbed off on him, or something. With nobody around to stop him now, he indulged the impulse to pluck out another whisker hair.

* * *

Cyrus leaned back against the door as soon as he closed it, and keened miserably. “Oh, this is bad, Gio’. This is so much worse than I could have imagined.”

“You’ve been saying that since day one. Get a new catchphrase, Cyrus.” Giovanni half-sat on the front of his desk, loosening his tie to try and relax just a little. It felt like all the muscles in his body seized up as soon as Nico told him what he had learned. “Alright, you’re the expert on this… trans-dimensional _nonsense_ , so what do you think really happened with Fuji?”

Cyrus shakily took a seat in one of the chairs usually provided for people being yelled at by the boss. “Well, he certainly didn’t come with us when we made the leap. I suppose that, as the beast’s creator, the Pantheon saw it fit to give him a fair warning. That could be why the result of the project now is… different.”

Giovanni grumbled, running his fingers through his widow’s peak in frustration. “Dammit. So I guess I shouldn’t expect anything actually useful from him. But those reports of a planned second attempt could be from whatever ramblings that old man made, as well.”

Cyrus watched Giovanni scratch his chin thoughtfully. “I thought that this timeline’s Mewtwo was a chance to do things over correctly, this time. Why are you dwelling on the past?”

“In all honesty? I feel like it’s not dead,” Giovanni shrugged. “I recalled it to the Master Ball before we made the jump. I planned to take it with me-”

“You _what?!_ ”

“You think I’m just going to let all that money go down the drain? It wasn’t on me when I woke up again, anyways.”

 _“Oh my god,”_ Cyrus buried his face in his hands, defeated. “Oh my god, oh my god. I cannot _believe_ you tried to take that monster with us after all the trouble it caused. You better hope the ball simply got destroyed in the jump, or got corrupted, or _something_.”

Giovanni rolled his eyes. “Oh, quit your bellyaching. I’m the one who lost capital, here.”

“We should be trying to _prevent_ what happened, dammit, not just making it worse the second time around!”

“I’m not going to be defeated by a _fucking pokemon!”_ Giovanni’s voice rose enough to echo dramatically in the room. He made sure his office had the acoustics to get the tone just right for it. “Those legendaries are _not_ gods. They aren’t omnipotent. They don’t _rule_ us. If I have to destroy a hundred worlds to prove it, I will. _My_ Mewtwo was _perfect_ , it _was_ that proof.”

He closed in on Cyrus, and leaned into his personal space, staring pointedly into his eyes. 

“When we have subjugated the most powerful pokemon in existence and declared ourselves the rulers of the world, I’m going to have my partner at my side. Mark my words.”

Satisfied with the fear in the man’s eyes, Giovanni calmly went over to his personal minibar to make himself a drink. Or three. Cyrus was left to stare at his own trembling hands.

“We’re getting closer to the date it all happened, aren’t we? I can feel it… I’m sure _they_ can feel it, too.”

“ _Good_ . I hope they’re scared.” Giovanni popped an olive into his martini. He hated olives, but, well. He had to keep up a certain aesthetic, here. “I’m tired of living in fear of animals while we, the Dominion of Humanity, are the rightful rulers of the planet. We survived that cataclysm for a reason, Cyrus. We are here to _win_.”

He handed Cyrus his own drink, which he took tentatively. Cyrus raised his glass in a toast feebly.

“To the Dominion. May our kingdom ever persist.”

Giovanni laughed deeply, and clinked their glasses together recklessly. “To Team Rainbow Rocket! To _me!_ ”


	15. Chapter 15

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> TW: VIOLENCE, blood, death(human, pokemon), needles, (some) sexual content

Mewtwo nuzzled into Char’s neck, as they laid together in quiet comfort. Dawn was breaking, with the dim glow of the sunrise showing through the material of their tent. They still had a few minutes before they had to get their shit together and keep moving. They could spare some time in private together. Char was still antsy to finish the last leg of their trip, but… Mewtwo was warm, and soft, and as he started to perk up, he purred against her contentedly. Char could have fallen asleep again just from this.

She shivered as a cold, slightly damp nose nuzzled lazily against her neck. Mewtwo was getting bolder from the slight disorientation that came from the initial stages of waking up. Right now, there was no room to be anxious or self-conscious; it was just the two of them in the confines of their tiny, insular world in the tent. Even while she was slightly more lucid, Char found herself easily distracted by the temptation to just… lay there a few more minutes. She lead Mewtwo on with her soft, appreciative sounds and her gentle touch. Clumsily, the clone tried to re-create the sort of kiss she gave him earlier; licking at her slightly opened mouth and nipping her bottom lip, uncertain of the sort of finesse making out really needed. Char never really knew what it entailed either. Somewhere, there was somebody out there who was genuinely good at kissing, and they were still probably lying.

Char felt the palpable pooling of heat in the pit of her stomach. Or was it his? As she suspected, the closer they got, the harder it was to separate who was feeling what, first. This had never happened before; she had never been with someone this open, let alone this powerful. Even if the higher functions of his psychic powers were being inhibited, Mewtwo had adapted to the signature of her sensitivity in ways she had never experienced before.

Her head almost spun from the emotional feedback. She was still wrapping her mind around her own feelings; trying to parse them in a more levelheaded way, trying to be mature about it. But Mewtwo was running on pure infatuation, exactly what she tried to warn him about. Then again, she couldn’t deny that she was infatuated, too. Why else would she have gone through all this? Who was she kidding?

Mewtwo was getting noticeably… _handsy_ , and while it felt like forever since she had been touched, Char was still starkly aware that this was a terrible place to start getting too intimate. She could hear her boys milling about outside, waking up and starting to scrounge around for breakfast. She couldn’t be distracted any longer, they had to get moving.

Mewtwo seemed to take a cue from the dotting of bitemarks along her shoulders, and nibbled at her neck in a way that made her stiffen up immediately. The clone rolled his hips, one leg straddling hers, and the distinct feeling of _something_ poking her hipbone made Char forcibly push him off.

“Alright, let’s not get ahead of ourselves here, pal.”

Mewtwo snapped back into reality, and instantly flushed with embarrassment. _“Oh, sorry, I-I just-”_

Char cracked a coy smirk at how he cupped his groin self-consciously. “Let’s wait ‘til we’re off the road before we start gettin’ frisky, alright?”

 _“Of course,”_ Mewtwo giggled nervously, pink showing through his fur. Sluggishly, he turned his back to her and curled into a shivering little ball. _“I’m just going to sit here for a moment, then. Think of something sobering, like uh, I dunno. Medical equipment.”_

“Cold, gloved hands and disinfectant smell? Words like ‘forceps’?” Char suggested cheekily.

_“That usually works for me.”_

She snickered, and gave him a pat on the back.

* * *

Walking was a little easier on Char after a day of rest. Her knee was still stiff, but it was no longer shooting lances of pain up her thigh, making her feel weak and unsteady. She could do this. She _had_ to do this. She owed Mewtwo that much. Looking at him, she felt like she could take on the gods themselves all over again.

Mewtwo finally crawled groggily out of the tent after the sun rose, roused from the commotion of everything else getting packed up. He stumbled over to the woman he confessed to with quiet determination, and caught her off guard with a kiss. Char felt like her brain short circuited; instilling an instant booster shot of confidence in her. She shook the lightheadedness from her brain, still coming to terms with his confession, her feelings, everything. Yanna cleared his throat awkwardly, and brought them back to reality.

Char hesitated, then laughed nervously. “Are you really surprised?”

 **“He’s not the Kazam brat, at least,”** Yanna shrugged a bit before getting back to dismantling the tent. His voice lowered as he began to grumble to himself. **“Or the other Kazam, or the four-hands, or my cousin, or…”**

“Alright, _alright!_ Do I need to air your dirty laundry too?”

Mewtwo shifted uncomfortably on his feet, and Char felt his sudden, confused shame. She rubbed his back comfortingly until the tension in his posture relaxed. “Don’t worry about it. If he didn’t like you, he’d let you know. Trust me.”

 **“I am especially glad he’s not my cousin.”** Yanna gave her a brief, admonishing glance over his shoulder.

Mewtwo took the final tally of everything, keeping note of their supplies with his superior capacity for memory. Char noted the way he seemed to organize things in his head, compartmentalizing information and committing it to memory similar to a Kazam. She didn’t envy him, herself. She probably wouldn’t be able to live with a photographic memory.

 _“If we keep up our optimal pace, we should be able to reach that safehouse before dusk,”_ Mewtwo noted, his tail swished with growing anticipation. He gave Char a hopeful, endearing look. _“Do you think we can make it? I mean, with your knee…”_

He trailed off as Char grumbled resentfully to herself, hitching her bag up her shoulder. “If I can’t make it fifteen goddamn miles, just shoot me already.”

 

They had to run out of forest eventually. Ruins like the cabin they stayed in before were becoming more frequent now, as they neared a major city. Abandoned, boarded up, graffiti-decorated houses; whole neighborhoods swallowed by the wilderness and reclaimed by wild pokemon. Mewtwo was fascinated, rubbernecking to gawk at each one they passed. _“What happened here?”_

“The circle of life, mostly,” Char answered unhelpfully. “Humans try to expand their territory, the pokemon pick off people not equipped to deal with them, then places that don’t have the resources to keep up with it just wither and die.”

 **“Not everyone is a trainer, and not everyone is a fighter.”** Yanna nodded solemnly. **“Four-handed men lived here once, but the humans would not co-exist with them.”**

Char shrugged noncommittally. “It was probably Mankeys defending their territory.”

Mewtwo felt a chill run down his spine, as they walked along the overgrown, gravel road. They passed a peeling, dated billboard advertising the construction of the housing development that never was. It was defaced with various, miscellaneous tags and impromptu murals. The raw art of trainers trying to make a permanent mark on the world. Mewtwo glimpsed an unmistakable red _‘R’_ within the mess, and his blood froze in his veins.

_“We’re still safe out in the open like this… right?”_

Char took his hand with a solid grip that conveyed her protectiveness, but said nothing. She pointed subtly to one of the houses. The door to it was open, and an inhuman shadow ducked out of view when the clone turned his head.

“Don’t worry, it’s just squatters,” Char mumbled out of the corner of her mouth.

She was right; as they cut through the abandoned development, more and more fuzzy, gangly-limbed Mankey were making their presence known. They watched warily from a distance, some of them climbing onto roofs or peering out of doorways and broken windows. It was a surreal, unnerving sight, but the trainer and her pokemon made no indication of fear or interest in the wild pokemon. Mewtwo tried to do the same.

Wild pokemon were less dangerous than trainers, right…? At least they wouldn’t try to capture him. Maul him, maybe, but that was sounding better than going back to Giovanni.

He was almost starting to feel like he could make it without having some sort of panic attack, when the sound of hooting and hollering Mankey behind them startled him enough to let out an upset yelp. Everyone spun around, Char in particular pulling Mewtwo behind her. 

A few of the wild primates were running from something picking up dust and fallen leaves on the half-paved road. Something large and four legged, intimidating enough to make the Mankey scatter in their own territory…

“Shit, trainer!”

Mewtwo hesitated when he was pointed to one of the houses to hide. The trainer on their enormous Arcanine was too fast anyways, bounding over and stopping in a flurry of smoke and burnt leaves. The man was about Char’s age; some equally rough and grizzled veteran of the routes. He was missing an eye, lost to whatever pokemon clawed the side of his head years in the past. It gave him a cruel and severe look, and made his one good eye burn under the brim of his hat in Mewtwo’s direction.

“That’s a pretty cat you got there, ace!” The man casually drawled in a thick Unovan accent, pointing to the clone that trembled behind Char. “Psy type, eh? Must be a feisty one, with an inhibitor like that.” 

“Turn around and walk away, if you know what’s good for you.” Char’s voice was low and chilling. Around her, her team postured appropriately. Yanna shrugged off the supplies on his back, and tossed them aside before audibly cracking his neck. Mercury and Jupiter kept low to the ground, intending to lunge on Char’s command. Even the Gengar had risen up out of the shadows to become a hazy, ominous black specter behind their new trainer.

The scarred man hopped off the back of his beast, a thumb tucked into his belt to keep a hand close to his team’s pokeballs. “I’d offer a battle, but you seem to be a little short on your team these days. Aren’t you, Jessop?”

“It ain’t worth it, pal.” Char retorted as she reached behind herself subtly, brushing her fingertips against Mewtwo’s arm. He heard her muted, telepathic message. _“Wait until we attack before running for cover. Don’t let him chase you.”_

The trainer tipped his hat towards her with a cruel grin. “That bounty you got on your head is _very_ worth it.”

With the finesse of a movement that was second-nature to him, the veteran brandished three pokeballs between his fingers. They broke open with a flash of light when he tossed them behind him. A tall, spiky, muscle-bound Nidoking loomed over him protectively. A fat Venusaur with a bloom on its back that looked permanently burnt on one side lumbered to its trainer’s side. A Vaporeon hissed from behind his legs, deceptively smaller than the others but riddled with scars against its smooth hide. 

They were all just as hardened and battle-ready as Char and her team, and Mewtwo could see why Giovanni would potentially only send him. He could see Char cutting through grunts like a knife through butter, but another League veteran? That was equal footing. Char’s expression remained cool and placid. She spoke her first command softly.

_“Take them out.”_

The pit of Mewtwo’s stomach felt like a black hole in that moment, and time seemed to slow to a crawl. Char immediately pushed him towards the sidelines. They both lunged outside of the fray, and he could hear the cacophony of eight angry monsters roaring with undying loyalty to their partners, and the violent thrill of battle.

Yanna reached for the largest opponent first - the massive Arcanine, and attempted to bodily subdue it. The Venusaur tried to entangle Jupiter before he could electrocute the Vaporeon, but it was too late; a powerful jolt of electricity coursed painfully through the amphibious beast, stopping it in its tracks. Mercury performed a graceful, well-practiced flying kick at the Nidoking’s face. There were no commands from the trainers, no _‘moves’_ or _‘turns’_. This was battling in its rawest form, before the League tried to civilize it. This was war.

Mewtwo made it to the shell of an unfinished house with empty door and window frames, but Char didn’t follow him. He wasn’t surprised to see that while the pokemon fought each other as equally deadly creatures, their humans fought on their own terms. He worried for Char, but… he understood, now. She had turned herself into a force of nature. Now, she was against someone who did the same thing.

Char didn’t have fighting types for nothing. She blocked her opponents blows with her cane, old reflexes slowly coming back to her. It helped in the long run that she trained with the Hariyama, who taught her how to center herself in a way that a larger opponent couldn’t overpower her. Fighting on her knee fucking hurt, but adrenaline kicked in like a charm; like a rewarding dose for breaking the man’s nose and ripping his stupid hat off. 

He was after her, so he was aware of her weaknesses; trying to trip up her bad leg first and foremost. Dumbass. She had been dealing with trainers going for that move for twenty fucking years. The opening it gave her was clear as day, and she redirected him straight into the ground.

Behind her, a sickening crunch and a tortured scream didn’t even make her look back. It wasn’t one of hers. The trainer shouted, fear flashing through his eyes as he witnessed someone he probably knew and loved for many years suddenly just… stopped screaming altogether. Unfortunately, Char had no issue taking advantage of his hesitance. The man was certainly tough, enduring the hits from her metal cane until he could properly wrench it from her hands. That just made her angrier.

The two trainers exchanged uncoordinated, furious blows. A fight as messy and awful as the one going on behind them. Char spat out blood, and grunted when her hair was pulled and a fist pummeled her ribs. She managed to reverse the hold, and his arm as well. Another crunch of broken bone made Mewtwo wince as he watched, cowering under a window sill. The man let out a hoarse scream.

With at least four bestial pokemon in the fray, the air was filled with hellish snarling and growling. The Arcanine had been the first to go limp, jaw dislocated and neck twisted. The Nidoking tried to seek revenge, focusing on Yanna, who matched his strength and tossed him like a sack of thorny bricks against the crumbling pavement. Their strength was probably _too_ evenly matched; Yanna made no progress trying to overpower the poisonous creature, and its thorns pricked through his thick skin. Their poison started to burn through his arms. The scales were finally tipped when the air went cold around them, and the Nidoking briefly choked on a tangible shadow bubbling up out of its throat. The Gengar did… _something_ , and it gave Yanna the opening to pummel their opponent into a pulp. 

The Vaporeon attempted to douse the flames Mercury ignited on a panicking Venusaur, but that just left it open for Juptier to pounce, sparks flying from his jaws. With a squeal, it was gone. Their trainer was getting desperate, the grief of loss powering every move he made. He tackled Char, and when he could find purchase between her clawing hands, he slipped a knife out of his boot. It was a proper hunting knife, and he held it confidently in his good hand. Char yelped, and grabbed at his arm before he could stab her. Mewtwo’s fur stood on end.

The struggle between the two humans wasn’t noticed by their pokemon, who were getting equally sloppy and desperate. Jupiter limped with a noticeably broken leg courtesy of the Venusaur, which collapsed into a smoldering heap that Mercury tore into eagerly. The Blaziken was still tearing off the thorny vines that grappled him when they still had life in them.

Yanna had the Nidoking in a stranglehold, huffing with the effort to squeeze him _just_ enough. The poison type was suffocating, legs buckling weakly. He felt his opponent’s pulse hammer against him. It never gets easier, tuning it out. Yanna closed his eyes and braced himself for the worst sound in the world. **“May you find peace, warrior.”**

_Snap._

He let out the breath he was holding, as well as the limp body. It was significantly quieter now, the battle drawing to a close. It made the sudden sound of snarling pierce the air. The man who fought Char on an overgrown lawn let out a strangled sound, and was pushed to the ground.

Char barely processed it. All she knew in this world was that she was trying to push a knife out of her face, _again_ , when the knife and the man holding it was shoved out of her field of vision. A white blur barreled into him, and the two rolled through the grass as the man’s screams started to gurgle. Mewtwo had him by the throat, and would only let go when the knife was jabbed into the clone’s side.

With a whimper, he rolled off of the trainer. Beside him, he got to watch the man’s eyes stare upward towards the sky. The trainer made disgusting, desperate sounds as blood welled in his mouth and through the hole in his neck. Mewtwo didn’t even hear Char shouting. He barely felt her hands on him. He just felt… cold. He was floundering on the ground in a pool of blood, once again.

 _“Yanna!”_ Char’s voice broke as she yelled, and the Hariyama sprung into action. He grabbed he duffel bag and flung it in her direction. She managed to grab it, mostly; grunting from the impact and automatically diving into it for the medkit.

“‘Two, sweetheart, don’t move and don’t pull it out yet, alright?”

She didn’t hear anything from him except a ragged wheeze. She dug around for a capped syringe, the most expensive and valued medicine she made sure to take with her. The full restore; a valuable, high-quality treatment for pokemon in the highest-stakes arenas. You could bring someone from the brink of death with it.

“Listen to me,” Char kneeled next to Mewtwo with a wince, holding open one of his unfocused eyes to check on his consciousness. There was light still left in him, but he couldn’t stop staring at the dead trainer. With shaking, sore, bloody hands, Char prepared the shot. “‘Two, baby, please stay with me. It’s going to be okay. We’re almost there.”

Mewtwo’s bloodshot eye flicked up at her. He coughed, unsure if the blood in his mouth was his or not. The knife was soundly between his ribs, and the needle was positioned close to it. In the haze of shock, he heard Char’s mumble a countdown to herself.

_“Okay, th-three, two, one-”_

Mewtwo felt a sharp lance of pain as he was… _un_ -stabbed, and then immediately stabbed _again_ with the needle. The injection hurt more than the knife immediately, and he had to be held still when he suddenly convulsed. Char maneuvered him until his bloody face pressed against the ground, and pressed on his chest.

He coughed, and his blood splattered against the dead man’s face. Mewtwo hacked and wheezed until he could properly breathe again, a hand joining Char’s to press against the rapidly-closing wound.

The clone got enough of his senses back to look down, as the hands were eventually lifted. The blood from the initial injury was still in the process of dripping down his torso, but the wound was entirely gone. Only the pain, and the lingering feeling of the object remained.

Char let out a relieved sigh, seeing the color start to come back to his face. She bent down to give Mewtwo a rushed, grateful kiss on the forehead before finally looking around the carnage. “Alright, sound off; who else needs healing?

Mewtwo uneasily righted himself into a sitting position, still pained and especially traumatized. He looked at the battlefield waged in the middle of the overgrown suburb. Char rushed over to a pitifully limping Jupiter to tend to him. Mercury was just savagely eating the Venusaur, as grass types in particular were his natural prey to begin with. Yanna looked over the grisly scene, and sighed.

* * *

They probably weren’t going to make it by sundown. Mewtwo could barely walk, in a dissociative state that Char couldn’t reach him through. She was torn; part of her wanted to collapse with him, and weep from the compounded trauma of all the hell she put him through in the name of freedom. Part of her wanted to slap him, tell him to square the fuck up, and get used to it. The harsher side of her curdled her guts, but that part was still right.

The most she could do was wipe the blood off of Mewtwo gently, and try to find some semblance of himself in his distant eyes. They left the scene as it was; no burial, no looting outside of Char checking the wallet of the trainer. The only words said were a brief Hariyama eulogy that Yanna somberly recited. He and Char both bowed their heads for a moment of silence. The aftermath of the chaos was not nearly as harsh and brutal as the fight.

Nobody wanted to hang around the grisly scene as the Mankey began to cautiously size it up for scavenging, so Yanna helped Char walk Mewtwo down the road. A house out of earshot from the excited hollering of the wild pokemon was found to rest in. Mewtwo numbly sat on a bare, unfinished floor. Char peered warily out of a window before slumping down next to him.

He barely responded when she put her arms around him. Their connection was silent. Unsettlingly so. Char could say sorry all she wanted, but that wasn’t going to fix anything.

Jupiter still limped as he walked over to her, but his injury was healed. He was just getting too old for this. No amount of potions could cure that. The Manectric laid down beside the two of them, showing support in his own way. Char’s chest ached as she pet the conductive head that rested in her lap.

“I’m sorry I made you do it again. All of you.”

 **“He was a headhunter,”** Yanna stared up at the bare beams of the partially-finished ceiling. **“He would have done the same to us. It was unfortunate, but necessary.”**

Char sighed, and took out a business card she grabbed from the trainer. It was identical to the one that started all this. “He was a mercenary. Like me.”

She flinched when a cold hand brushed against her wrist, feebly trying to hold her hand. She obliged Mewtwo readily, gently squeezing back. She looked for the light in his eyes. The clone blinked, a glimmer of recognition returning to them, and his haunted expression turned into a sad grimace.

_“He loved his pokemon. He was horrified for them, he was losing everything back there. It’s all he could think about... wondering if his boys were going to make it.”_

Char tried to hold him, but he ducked out of her grasp to get onto his unsteady feet. _“I’m... going to get some fresh air.”_

Everyone watched Mewtwo silently pad his way through the empty house, and step out through what was supposed to be the back door. Char was ready to drop everything to go after him. She made it only a few steps before was practically clotheslined by a bruised, meaty arm.

**“Leave him be. You are too close to him.”**

“The fuck’s _that_ supposed to mean?” Char growled. She still tried to stubbornly get past Yanna, only to be grabbed and gruffly pulled over to his side.

 **“It** **_means_ ** **you baby him. He is not a cub from the nest, he is a man who is ashamed of bloodshed. Let him grieve.”**

Char huffed with a pout, but still huddled up next to the Hariyama. She busied herself instead by checking on his poisoned wounds, patched up not too long ago. The antidote brought along did the trick, but the punctures still looked dark and painful. The veins in his arms were still purple from where poison sunk into his bloodstream.

She gave him a tired, concerned look. “I know you killed at least two of ‘em, back there. You gonna be alright?”

Yanna sighed wearily. **“You told me the risks. We expected the suit’s men to come eventually.”**

“He wasn’t a grunt, though. He was a proper ace. One of our generation, from the looks of it.”

 **“Yes.”** The Hariyama’s eyes darkened. He gingerly took her much tinier hand in his. **“I find as the years go by, violence has only become more difficult to deal with.”**

There was nothing Char could say to that. Seeing them all have to process a fight for their lives every single time always hurt. But... she felt nothing for the actual violence she committed. She felt nothing for the man who tried to stab her for a bounty from Giovanni. She felt sorry for having to kill pokemon alongside the trainers they were merely obeying, but would never hesitate to defend herself from them. She simply accepted that she had to survive, and move on.

The sun was starting to cast a brilliant orange light upon the ruins of the failed housing development. Char and Yanna were debating the ethics of poaching a Mankey for dinner when Mewtwo stepped back in, a little easier on his feet this time. _“Okay, let’s go.”_

They both did a double take. Char blinked in surprise. “What? You don’t wanna stay here for the night?”

Mewtwo averted his gaze from her. He was still keeping himself at a distance, through their connection. _“It’s only going to be a few miles. It might be dark, but we can make it.”_

Yanna straightened up. **“We will have to return the dog, then. Sister, will you be able to walk?”**

“I… Yeah, I guess if you’re down, I’m down.” Char took a careful step towards the clone. “Are you alright, though?”

Mewtwo shifted from foot to foot uneasily, only briefly meeting her eyes. _“I’ll live. Let’s just get out of here, we’re so close already.”_

He was still keeping space between them, psychically, long after they left the reclaimed neighborhood and trudged grimly into the twilight. Char couldn’t stand the sudden silence from him; she used to be overwhelmed by his feelings. She had gotten complacent with the constant presence. The absence was giving her a sour feeling in her gut. It reminded her of things he wasn’t… _ready_ for. Or, more accurately, she wasn’t ready for.

* * *

As always, every night, a candle was lit inside a window. It was a subtle marker. Usually Centers were well-lit, well-maintained places, but trainers in need would still try to enter closed ones. More often than not, _‘closed’_ just meant _‘open for looting’_. Even with the windows boarded up and ‘NO LOOT, NO PKMN’ scrawled everywhere, people still tried to break in. But more often than not, they weren’t actually here for scavenging.

The Kadabra vixen was the first to perk up, something hitting the peripheral of her awareness. She looked over to the woman beside her. _“Psy type closing in. They’re headed for us.”_

Her partner went from sleepily reading in bed to jumping to action in a second, rushing out the bedroom door. She turned on the lights they rarely used in lieu of candles, lighting up the mostly-gutted, outdated Center. 

When the expansion plans in the area failed, the League declined setting up a branch around it from Route Six, letting the Center fall into disrepair. It was fortunate for its squatters, because a med bay and a hostel in the basement was exactly what they needed. There was an irony to setting up here, really. The League _hated_ people like them.

The boards over the double doors cleverly concealed that they could still be opened from the inside, and the woman peeked through a crack between them. She jumped when she was met with an intense stare. A familiar stare. The door was opened a little more, and her eyes widened at Char’s black eye and busted lip. Still, protocol had to be observed.

“What’s the password?”

The bedraggled, exhausted woman on the other side groaned angrily. “For fuck’s sake Sabrina, it’s _me!_ Let us in, I ain’t got time for this bullshit!”

Sabrina cringed, and relented. She couldn’t remember a single time where Char had willingly given her a password. Opening the doors, she could see the worn-down, fatigued travelling party squinting from the light inside. She concentrated briefly, but didn’t find the presence she was expecting.

“... Wait, where’s Nico?”

Char suddenly looked supremely uncomfortable for a moment, sighing guiltily before beckoning at someone hiding behind her Hariyama.

Whatever they were, they made Sabrina gawk. The pale, strange pokemon shivered nervously, eyes sunken and dark. An absolutely horrific-looking inhibitor was sealed to their head, to the point that the skin had scarred around the metal. Char slipped an arm around their waist protectively.

“We got a different package, I’m afraid.”


	16. Chapter 16

“Alright.” Sabrina slumped into her seat with a fresh mug of coffee in hand. “Start from the beginning.”

Char choked down as much as she could stomach of her own cup; she hated the stuff, but she needed the caffeine. “Depends, do you mean the beginning where I meet him or after the fuckup?”

“Surprise me.”

Char looked down at her rippling reflection in the dark depths of that disgusting bean juice pensively. “After the uh, _‘big fuckup’_ , I had to lay low for a bit. Told myself I’d never work for that bastard again, but then my Gyarados dies and I’m suddenly twenty-K in the hole again. Gio’ calls in this favor he was talking about back when I was last on his payroll, some new clone that’s been cooking for the last few years. Supposed to be a clone of Mew.”

“Yeah, the name was a dead giveaway.” Sabrina replied flatly.

“Yeah, Giovanni’s shit at names. So, after he has me and Nico capture it in this prototype ball, he ships us over to one of his bunkers so I can break it for him… with Nico keeping an eye on me the whole time.”

The willowy, dark-haired psychic listening to her paused and pulled a confused face. “Really? After you and him tried to-”

“I didn’t question it. I was just happy Nico was in one piece.” Char’s eyes were downcast, belying the undercurrent of guilt that she felt whenever she was reminded of the Alakazam. “Giovanni really… really got to him this time. Nico just wasn’t the same after we got caught. He just stopped trying to fight it altogether.”

“Safety in servitude,” Sabrina mumbled darkly. Char could see resentment in the woman’s eyes, and she didn’t know if it was directed at her or not.

“I’m sorry, Sabs. I just couldn’t put him through that again. Besides, he’s… well, he’s the reason Mewtwo’s got that thing on his head. He designed it.” Char tapped her own head for emphasis. Fear and revulsion was clear in Sabrina’s grimace from the mere mention of the inhibitor.

“You can’t be serious.”

Char just shrugged. “Fear makes us do terrible things. The worst monsters under Giovanni are the ones scared shitless of him.”

“So Nico really watched you train another psychic for Giovanni all over again? He just let it happen?”

“Honestly? I think he enjoyed it.” Her stomach in knots, Char pushed her mug a little farther away from her on the table. “He was finally on the other side of the quarantine, one way or another.”

She sighed, looking around the one corner of the reclaimed basement rec room that served as a tiny kitchen. Outside of the single lightbulb above them, the rest of the room was mostly dark; save for a television that was still on. The bluish light of the screen served to outline a Kadabra dozing off in a second-hand armchair.

“I had to get ‘Two out of there. He’s… he’s innocent. Soft. Sweet.” Char felt an ache in her chest that wasn’t just her heavily bruised ribs. Even if he was just down the hall, not having that empathetic connection made him feel miles away to her. “I love him, Sabbie. I love him so much... I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if Gio’ broke him, too.”

Sabrina tapped her long, black nails against the porcelain of her mug. “I see.”

“I’m not proud of what I had to do.” Char didn’t look back at her. It was hard enough having to deal with _herself_ when it came to this subject. “We can’t save everyone. Nico would’ve been the first to tell you that.”

“You’re already talking about him like he’s _dead_ ,” Sabrina remarked in a truly repulsed, flat tone as she straightened up and rose from her seat. She paused, looking down the dark hallway she led Mewtwo down not too long ago. She was hoping to have that private room prepared for somebody she once saw as a friend.

“I’ll call the surgeon in the morning. Daphne will jailbreak the device tomorrow and we’ll go from there. You better not have just dragged us into anything dangerous.”

Char managed a weak smile. “You know me, danger’s the story of my life.”

* * *

Mewtwo awoke to darkness, again going through the motions of reminding himself he was still free. He remembered simply draping himself over a bed and passing out from exhaustion, but he awoke under the covers. The clone spent a while in the twilight between sleep and wakefulness, enjoying the peace and comfort of being in an actual bed again. His contentment was somewhat tarnished as he checked by his side, and found that he was alone.

After being either in quarantine rooms or tents for the majority of his life, the modest bedroom felt like the lap of luxury. It was about the most normal room he’d ever been in, featuring a chest of drawers, a desk, a lamp. Even some art decorated the walls. A drawing of a window was placed where somebody hoped one would be; a reminder that he was once again underground. Well, it was still an improvement.

Mewtwo cautiously looked through the empty drawers, and studied the bare essentials of pencils and paper on the desk. This room was meant to be a temporary place to stay, and it felt like it. He felt like a guest. This was probably the first time he ever _was_ one, come to think of it. Sitting on the bed, the clone looked around blankly, feeling somewhat lost. Now that they weren’t running anymore, he realized that he’d have no idea what he would do once they stopped in the first place.

Opening the door, Mewtwo saw light coming down the hallway. The other closed doors in the hallway made up the rest of the hospice area, containing multiple beds for groups of resting trainers. With nothing interesting in them, the hall funneled him down to the rec room as he followed the sounds of those who were also awake.

He turned heads as he stepped into the light; Jupiter’s tail wagged from where he sat in Yanna’s lap on the floor, watching television. Mercury was adamantly pecking at the wall where the Gengar’s shadowy figure kept teasing him. Char was there, to Mewtwo’s relief, and she had changed out of her filthy travelling clothes and into secondhand sweatpants and a Saffron Gym shirt. The trainer’s face lit up immediately, giving him a dear smile despite the gloominess in her eyes.

“Mornin’, sunshine.”

 _“Is it really morning? I can’t tell.”_ As Mewtwo stepped into the room, he flinched when he saw a Kadabra in the corner kitchen. The other psy-type acknowledged him with a similarly alarmed look, holding a dark bundle closer to their chest briefly.

 _“Oh, you must be the… ‘package’.”_ The Kadabra had a feminine-sounding telepathic voice, and as she relaxed her hold on the bundle, Mewtwo recognized it as a child. The clone felt a quiet pang of guilt over frightening her, just with his unusual appearance alone. Maybe he was accustomed to how Char and her crew accepted him so casually.

Tentatively, Mewtwo held out a hand, as he had picked up from humans. _“I’m Mewtwo, actually.”_

The Kadabra floated over to take his offered hand; showing him just how tiny she was compared to Nico, his only other experience with the Kazam. She couldn’t have been more than three and a half feet tall, dressed in a sharp button-down shirt and a skirt tailored to her inhuman body. The vixen gave him an acknowledging nod, the ornate beads on the ends of her short whiskers swaying over the sleeping Abra at her chest. _“I’m Daphne; I run this safehouse. I’m going to be shutting down your inhibitor today.”_

 _“We’re shutting it off?”_ Mewtwo’s tail swished with a sudden rush of excitement. It was finally starting to really hit him; he _made it_ , he was _free_ now; and soon so will his mind be, too.

 _“Well, we have to if we’re going to remove the device. If we don’t wean you off the signal, the shock to your system can kill you. This will be a day-long process, and it_ **_will_ ** _be uncomfortable.”_ Daphne had a precise and lecturing tone, like she had explained this a thousand times before to other psychics. She flew closer to where Char sat on the arm of the couch.

Char perked up as she was handed the Abra, readily draping the limp and fuzzy form over her shoulder at the vixen’s request. Its bushy tail immediately curled around her arm. Unfortunately, Daphne barely made it a few paces away from them before she flinched, and suddenly the kitt appeared in her arms again. Char cackled at her frustrated huffing.

Wresting the infant from where it clung to the shaggy fur around her neck, Daphne held the Abra at arms length and gave it a briefly admonishing glare. She offered the furry, drowsy lump to Mewtwo instead. _“Here, take him for a minute, would you? He doesn’t like being held by non-psychics.”_

 _“Uh, I don’t-”_ Mewtwo had no choice in the matter as the Abra was draped over his shoulder. He timidly placed his hands on it, uncertain and frankly terrified. _“I have literally never held a child in my life. What if I drop it? I’m clumsy without my powers…”_

 _“Oh, it’s fine,”_ the Kadabra reassured as she brought out a toolbox. _“If you drop him, he’ll just blink right back into your arms. Now, sit.”_

Cradling the Abra like he was made of glass, Mewtwo took an offered folding chair. The lightbulb clicked on above him, and the toolbox opened up like a book on its own.

Daphne didn’t have to hold any of the tools, using the supernatural precision of her telekinesis as a miniscule screwdriver was taken out. _“Just relax. You’re going to feel pressure and hear some scratching, but I’m not going to harm you.”_

 _“Oh, I know.”_ Mewtwo didn’t hide the resignation in his reply. He closed his eyes, and tried to think about how close he was to flying again.

Mewtwo didn’t care how she did it, he just wanted it _off_. The telekinesis at least minimized the feeling and sounds of the back of his head being poked and prodded, with the cover of the device being taken off to reveal the tiny, delicate circuitry within. He could vaguely feel Daphne considering the work ahead of her. 

Mewtwo nervously stroked the warm, fuzzy head of the kitt in his arms, wishing he could be as relaxed in this situation as the hibernating infant. Daphne took a tablet out, and plugged a thin wire somewhere into the inhibitor. The clone shuddered at the strange shocking sensation in his head. Behind him, the Kadabra worked with a casual, almost bored air. She did this countless times before. He should be fine, in theory.

_“So, Nico programmed this? It certainly looks like a Kazam’s work.”_

Mewtwo tried not to move his head. _“How can you tell?”_

 _“We may seem like ascetics, but in truth, we Kazam have a knack for programming.”_ Daphne used her fingers on the tablet, as telekinesis didn’t work on the touch screen. _“You know about matter-to-data digitization? It’s the technology behind pokeballs. Alakazam made the original code, long ago.”_

As much as he tried not to move a muscle, Mewtwo felt a chill tense through his body. _“Why did they make such a thing?”_

 _“To understand the pattern behind divine chaos, or something like that,“_ Daphne shrugged. _“Back in the ‘80s, when computers started getting big, a bunch of Kazam volunteered to push the boundaries. Our brains, with human motivation behind them? That’s a powerful combination.”_

Char sauntered over, watching the process like a hawk. “Yeah, then humans started getting antsy and started cracking down on sapience rights. Can’t have anyone except the Dominion of Humanity ruling the world, now.”

Daphne scoffed, rolling her eyes even though her ears still lowered. _“Oh, please. That whole ‘Dominionist’ crap is just a conspiracy theory. I guess you’ll be lecturing me about the League putting fluoride into potions, next?”_

“I’m just sayin’,” Char’s arms flapped exaggeratedly in a shrug, and she started helping herself to the contents of the fridge. “There’s a new goddamn Legendary cult springing up somewhere every year, Dominion stuff ain’t the weirdest thing I’ve seen out there.”

Mewtwo failed to resist flinching again from another unpleasant shocking sensation in his head. That seemed to be a good thing, as Daphne’s bushy tail started swishing gently behind her.

_“Alright, it looks like Nico disabled the external frequency function to prevent changing it by hand, but I’ve got access to the program that runs it, now. Let’s start turning this vile thing off.”_

Mewtwo closed his eyes in anticipation, his hands shaking as he tried to focus on petting the Abra. A familiar pain bloomed in the back of his skull, sending shockwaves down his bifurcated spinal cord. His nerves must have been too much for the psychic infant, because in an instant it blinked out of his arms. Char squawked in surprise and nearly dropped a carton of milk when the Abra reappeared, clinging to her shirt.

“Goddamn, Daph’! Who’s kid is this, anyways?!”

 _“A trainer rescue,”_ Daphne answered placidly, as she began unhooking her tablet from the inhibitor and putting it back together. _“Rookie season is over, so we’re getting an influx of donations to the gym roster. This one’s too young, so we’re going to take him to Indigo Falls.”_

Now that her hands were free again, she could properly take the kitt back, letting him grab fistfuls of her fur reflexively. She traded him with the tablet, putting Char in charge of the shackles of Mewtwo’s mind. _“This is still logged into the inhibitor; just copy and paste the command line here every hour or so. Keep an eye on him, and make sure he gets enough rest.”_

“Yeah, yeah, this ain’t my first rodeo.”

Daphne turned to the clone, still giving him a careful look. Was he really that strange looking? _“This will take about twenty-four hours. You may experience a persistent migraine, confusion, nausea, vertigo… you may want to go back to bed, honestly.”_

Mewtwo already had a hand on the back of his head, trying to put counter pressure against the pain. He had gotten used to it while training in the compound, but that was just from a fraction of a frequency change. Being in bed again sounded like a good idea.

 

The door to Mewtwo’s quarters squeaked a bit on its hinges, but the feeling of Char’s presence alerted him to her arrival in advance. The full scope of his psychic perception was starting to kick in again, and it was disorienting, to say the least. Luckily, Char came in with her bag of tricks and a smile.

“Joy call. How you feelin’?”

“Like Mercury just kicked me in the head,” Mewtwo grumbled audibly as he dragged his sore bones into a sitting position.

“I got something for that.” There was a secure sort of relief he could feel from Char; she knew what to give him, here. She found the right bottle, and dropped a pill into his open hand.

“ _Technically_ these are for after your surgery, but _shhh_.” She put a finger to her lips with a coy expression. “Wouldn’t have been able to get out of bed without ‘em, myself.”

That explained her good mood. Eager for some relief, Mewtwo didn’t hesitate to down the painkiller.

Her Joy duty done, Char could finally flop down next to him, joining him in staring at the stucco on the ceiling. The two of them spent a moment in silence. Just enjoying the peace. Mewtwo noticed the lack of psychic connection between them; he expected that by now she’d try to reconnect with him. He felt guilty enough over isolating himself earlier, as he found himself unable to deal with her numb and callous reaction to having to kill another trainer.

He understood it. Or at least, he wanted to understand it. He wanted to be able to shrug it off as readily as she did, but all he could think about was how much he felt like a monster in the heat of the moment. Feeling skin and blood vessels and cartilage crunch between his teeth. Tasting blood, disgustingly warm and fresh, feeling it drip from his maw like a wild animal. She should have known that moment as intimately as him, through their bond. He shared her panic and adrenaline, so she must have shared his horror.

Slowly, Mewtwo reached for her hand. Her fingers were clammy, and the ends of the missing ones had that smooth texture scars tended to have. Char threaded her fingers in between his.

“You alright, sweetheart?”

Mewtwo’s ears perked up. _“I, well… we’re here, aren’t we? That’s a relief.”_

He studied her expression, as Char stared thoughtfully into space. “It’s going to hit you soon, you know. The collapse after reaching someplace safe. You’re going to feel like everything’s just going to go wrong again, and it’ll make you too paranoid to enjoy safety in the first place.”

 _“... Oh.”_ Mewtwo was confused, but he could see the meaning behind her warning. She was undoubtedly speaking from experience.

“I’m just saying, if you start feeling like everything’s about to fall apart again, I’ll be first in line to remind you it isn’t. It’s behind you, now. Don’t let it keep clinging to you.”

Mewtwo nodded minutely, uncertain of how to respond. He didn’t feel like that, so far. Still shaken and vulnerable, perhaps, but he was relieved that the worst was finally over. Maybe that was because he never experienced things falling apart again in the first place.

The clone propped himself on his elbows, looking down at her and her distant stare upwards. _“You’re the one who feels that way, aren’t you?”_

Char sighed, closed her eyes, and her chin dimpled with the effort to keep a neutral expression. Mewtwo stroked her cheek with the backs of his fingers, as if to coax out some openness on her end. _“Are_ **_you_ ** _alright?”_

Her eyes shut a little tighter, her breaths deep and deliberate. “I know we’re not safe. I’ve learned better over the years.”

With a soft sigh, Mewtwo draped a protective arm over her, nuzzling into her neck. Char’s breathing became uneven as she leaned into the affection. She felt his ribs, the points of his elbows, the jutting bones of his hips. The clone pressed his forehead against hers. _“Charlotte, you can let me in. It’s alright.”_

With his sharpening perception, he could feel the anxiety creep around the seams of a mental wall. He felt like he could break it, if he so wanted, but he knew that it had to be there for a reason. Char ran her thumb along his jawline sweetly.

“Honey, you have no idea what you’re doing to me. This empathy thing, it’s bad enough when you’re inhibited; what’s it going to be like when you’re completely free of that thing?”

 _“I’ll learn how to control it,”_ Mewtwo suggested, if not uncertainly.

“That’s not what I mean.” Char’s words had a weary breathiness as she sighed. He could vaguely feel something was weighing on her, something she didn’t want to tell him. He felt it against the walls of inhibition just as much as the walls of her own defenses, even before now. Perhaps even since they met. All those signs, all those hints he could see now that he had seen her in her element were starting to come together.

_“Char, I know you’re sick. It’s okay.”_

There was a flash of fear in her eyes, before it dimmed into an annoyed look. “Ugh, Yanna spilled the beans, didn’t he.”

_“Well, he didn’t say what it was. I know it’s something psychological, I just can’t tell what it could be. I guess you would be good at hiding it if it was something you’ve had for a long time.”_

He could nearly feel a shade of relief from her, spared the burden of having to reveal something still deeply uncomfortable. He started to feel the familiarity of her warmth again as Char relaxed a little more in his arms.

“God, I’m so fucking tired of it still controlling my life. I let myself lose years of my life just to get away from it, just to try and be my own person again. I thought I could finally start pretending it never happened in the first place, but then I met you.”

Char straightened up, pulling herself out of his arms to give him a serious look. “My psy-sensitivity isn’t natural. It’s a side effect. I had a psychic parasite in my head as a kid, and when it died I had to deal with all the things it fucked up inside my head for the rest of my miserable life.”

Mewtwo sat up as well, concern clear in his eyes. _“Why didn’t I get any hint of this before?”_

“I took all of it out.” Char held his hands, keeping herself grounded. “Well, not all of it. I know I have Embrace Syndrome. I know I had a Gardevoir, once. But I can’t remember its face, or its voice, or how it made me feel. I got Nico to cut it out of my memories years ago, and that’s the only way I could find peace.”

She kneaded his knuckles nervously. “I’m so afraid now that what we have could be like that, now. I don’t know what’s love and what’s being tricked into love anymore, I don’t know the difference between a good bond or having the fuckin’ life sucked out of me. D-do you get it? Do you understand where I’m coming from?”

Mewtwo could feel her pleas just barely stopped from pouring out of her. _Please don’t hate me, please don’t leave me, please don’t hurt me._ He wished he could say he understood, but he didn’t. It’s not like he’d ever been in love before, he didn’t know what it could do to people, psychically or not. Regardless, he held her hands firmly, like she would.

_“I barely know the scope of my power, Char. I don’t know what our connection means, or what it could mean, but you know I’d never hurt you on purpose.”_

“Venus didn’t want to hurt me on purpose either, because she was a _fucking plant_.” Char’s eyes hardened into a glare, not towards him, but towards something within her. There were deep, dark feelings that she still held for what happened to her, bubbling up as she opened up about it. More than Giovanni, more than the man whose Sharpedo maimed her, Char held a resounding hatred for the thing that affected her the rest of her life so deeply. She would never find closure for it, so it remained in the pit of her heart.

Closing her eyes, Char willed it all back down. The same, centering ritual of grounding herself, calming herself down again after a meltdown. Mewtwo was patient, holding onto her hands like they were a tether keeping her from falling into whatever abyss it all went back to. Whatever abyss Venus came out of.

What could he even do? The wish to protect her, somehow, was almost instinctual. Just like when he tore a man’s throat out for her, though at least that was something he could _do_. He felt useless, still, against the daunting task of trying to make her feel safe again. Maybe that’s what love did to people.

“Well,” Char said finally, after the shadows seemed to retreat in her head, “you know what’s up now, so, let’s never speak of it again.”

_“Are you sure?”_

“Of course not. But that’s what’s kept me goin’ for the last twenty-odd years, so that’s what I’ll continue to do.” Char leaned in to give him a kiss on the cheek. A consolation prize, for receiving just a peek into the depths of her demons.

Mewtwo tried not to let his brain shut down from the power behind her kisses. Was she even aware of how deadly they were? Maybe she was, from how the light came back to her eyes when she looked at him.

“‘Two, I love you, but we’re going to have to figure this out.”

_“I know. At least now that I’m getting this inhibitor off I’ll have better control over this bond situation.”_

“Nnnnot quite,” Char held up a finger, her smile turning apologetic. “You’ve been at ten percent for what, two months? You’re going to be out of practice. Be glad you’re not the only psychic here; you’ll probably need to learn how to control your powers all over again.”

Mewtwo frowned, crestfallen at the notion. _“I guess it’s not really over then, huh?”_

Char’s face fell in concern, giving him a touch on the chin to bring his eyes to hers again. “Hey. We’ll work on it. Speaking of, let’s go shave another ten percent off, alright?”

Even if the path ahead felt long and daunting, Mewtwo was at least out of the woods. Literally, and metaphorically. As his brain adjusted to itself again, he felt the world a little more keenly.

 

Back in the rec room, Yanna used instruments similar to chopsticks suited to his large hands to pluck delicately at the pieces of a chessboard. His opponent used her own method of manipulation unique to her species, levitating her pieces. The pauses between their turns were long and arduous, the two of them putting as much deliberation into their moves as their ongoing debate.

**“Your outlook on the future is dismal, vixen. Humans have sunk to a low point, but I doubt they’ll relinquish the right to resignation.”**

_“Maybe it’s different in your home region, but over here, things have only gotten worse.”_ Daphne’s reply was dark, but she had the reserved and observational inflection Kazam were known for. _“Have you heard about Unova lately? That ‘Team Plasma’ cult is causing mass, unofficiated trainership releases. The League branch over there has been tightening restrictions in result; how much longer do you think it will be before it becomes a universal amendment?”_

The ears of both pokemon perked up as they noticed Char and Mewtwo enter the room. Daphne rose from her seat to get their attention. _“Feeling alright, so far? What’s the count up to?”_

“About to be twenty.” Char answered with a stroke of the touchpad. The inhibitor became a little less oppressive, and brought Mewtwo a fresh wave of pain.

_“Ugh… it’s only going to get worse, isn’t it?”_

_“Unfortunately,”_ Daphne’s ears lowered apologetically, before she gestured behind her. A square metal slab flew off of the milk crate coffee table, over Yanna’s head and across the room to land right in her waiting hand. Mewtwo was confused, until she opened it up. It was a laptop.

_“Yanna told me about how much of the world they’ve been keeping from you. We have an internet signal here so, knock yourself out. Just don’t give it any viruses.”_

Mewtwo took the computer, face blank with confusion. _“I don’t know what an internet is, but thanks...?”_

He went red as Char busted out in a moment of uncontrollable laughter. The trainer struggled to calm herself down and give him a reassuring pat on the back. “Oh, sweetheart… honey… we got so much work to do.”

* * *

At the end of the day, Rocket didn’t siege the place, nor did black League vans come to take anyone away. Char couldn’t relax just yet, restlessly doing another sweep of the area in the chilly air. The lack of security in this place always bothered her, but the discretion was more important for their needs. She couldn’t fix that, so it was up to her to put her mind at ease.

Coming inside as the sun started to set, she found her Hariyama companion doing stretches on the empty ground floor, towards the back of the building. Taking place next to him, she adopted a similar pose with a relieved grunt. All that travelling made them both sore as hell.

“Told ‘Two about the plant, earlier.”

 **“That’s for the best.”** Yanna arched his back, rumbling from the ache of his muscles. **“He was getting nosy.”**

Char held his arm for leverage as she stretched out her good leg. The pop her hips made was satisfying, if not dreadful-sounding. “I was afraid of what he would do if I told him. I thought it would scare him off.”

**“The worst part of your sickness is over, isn’t it?”**

“I mean, yeah, but…” Char stopped, her gaze turning distant before she ultimately shrugged off whatever crossed her mind. “It’s gone, that’s all that matters. All that’s left in there are ghosts, and they’ve got no material to haunt me with, anymore.”

It was one less thing weighing on her. As much as she loathed to remember what she still could of her past, perhaps now she could put it behind her for good.

 

In the relative safety (and warmth) of the basement, Mewtwo was introduced to an entire world at his fingertips. Once Daphne guided him through the basics and pointed him to the nearest online encyclopedia, he was instantly enraptured. The history of the world? The research of almost anything on psychics he could think of? Pages and pages of complied myths relating to Mew? It was all here, answers to so many questions.

With his reading speed, he scrolled through pages quickly, one after another. Timelines, summaries, biographies… with his brain, he could process all of it at a speed a human would be overloaded by. And this was just _normal?_ People just had this technology _on hand?_

Drunk on the power of information, Mewtwo just started clicking random page links, letting himself fall deep into a Diggersby-hole. Everything was swiftly scanned through, working down from the League, to the gym system, to the current Gym Leaders… to a Gym Leader with a familiar name, and finally, to his daughter.

Charlotte May Jessop, born 1991. A native of Hoenn; holder of eight badges and an honorary championship, granted after an unexpected illness ended her circuit short. Her photograph at the top was extremely outdated; she was a child, there. It was promotional material, no less.

The biography covering her rookie years was surprisingly short, for a page so long. She wouldn’t have had a page on that alone, in the first place. No, this was just a footnote in comparison to the most detailed and well-documented aspect of her life: surviving the death of her Gardevoir. Her unwilling contribution to the understanding of psychic power used on the non-psychic brain. How she put Embrace Syndrome on the map, forcing the Hoenn League to enforce a ban on the ownership of an entire species.

Seeing the parts of her story Char wouldn’t - or couldn’t - reveal to him earlier, Mewtwo felt like a voyeur. The part of her that she hated and tried so hard to hide from him was actually the most interesting aspect of her life, to everyone else. Most of all the League. As much as he wanted to look away, he couldn’t. Well, he wanted to know about her. Every part of her, even her demons. Or rather, demon, singular. With no concept of decency, the editors included that too; in a picture he felt guilty in clicking on to gawk at.

In the photograph, Char was small and thin. She held her final badge like a trophy she hunted, her eyes uncharacteristically intense for a twelve year old. The difference between her and the eleven year old girl at the top of the page was night and day, but that wasn’t why they took the time to upload this. Behind her, her tiny form was dwarfed by a tall, thin humanoid figure. A dress made out of gauzy white petals and hair made out of leaves gave it a feminine appearance. The open flower of its chest bloomed, red like blood from a fatal wound.

She was beautiful, revoltingly, after everything he read and all the pain she caused Char. Her wide eyes stared back at Mewtwo, as if looking through the barriers of the laptop screen and death itself to haunt him. Venus.


	17. Chapter 17

 

Cyrus pored over his notes for the hundredth time, as if they would suddenly, inexplicably change when he wasn’t looking. He swore it had happened before. The horror of what he and Giovanni managed to do was not in the actions of their past, but the consequences felt in the present.

He knew that, on the other side of the portal, this world would not be their world. Most of all, it wouldn’t be his world; the perfect world he wished to create. Existence was chaotic and dangerous, full of suffering and lacking direction. If he could harness the divine beasts known as the Legendaries, he could direct them to make an existence built on order and purpose.

Of course, Giovanni thought this was all nonsense. Cyrus was convinced he came to the gathering of the Dominion just to gorge on hors d'oeuvres and brag about his wealth and influence, but Giovanni still retained the core belief that brought them together: humanity was meant to rule. They were the underdogs, the mundane and fragile apes of common intellect and middling physique; with no powers or purpose or ability to evolve. Despite all of this, they had risen to the top of the food chain. They conquered the beasts of the land through pure willpower and conviction, pure spite towards the pokemon that selfishly asserted that they were chosen by the gods.

What were the gods, if not beasts themselves? If the gods were pokemon, then they were meant to serve humanity. It was a bold and profound belief, passed down from generations. Cyrus, Ghetsis, Lysandre - they grew up knowing the truth of Dominion, and they established their own plans to bring the world into order.

They all had their own selfish, megalomaniacal plans, but they were united by one goal: subjugating the last unconquered beasts in the world. Taming the Legendaries. Giovanni, though a mere crime lord with simple goals, had the idea that would change the course of fate.

You know they’re starting to clone a bunch of extinct pokemon from fossils now? That technology is making waves. Who’s to say we couldn’t just clone our own goddamn Legendaries?

Cyrus wished now that we would have been struck with a premonition like that doctor did, the moment Giovanni flippantly remarked such powerful words around a swig of champagne. The world was doomed with that. It would only be ten years later before Cyrus would look up to the sky, and watch in horror as the wrath of Arceus fell down from the heavens. Punishment for their hubris.

The world-weary, haunted man put away his notes again, somewhat reassured by reminding himself that it all actually happened. Hearing that Fuji’s revelation of the Adversary came in the form of a mental break had him worried for his own state of mind. Was it possible that they all just suffered a mass hallucination, or a planted false memory?

His breath rattling in his chest, Cyrus downed another of the benzos Giovanni passed to him earlier. The same medication the boss had been popping himself with increasing frequency, combating the impending sense of doom over his head. It would be a while yet before it would calm him down, but the placebo effect of doing _something_ centered him a bit. He would need it; the night was still young.

Cyrus was almost feeling his brain wind down at last, when his visitor evoked a much more primal panic response. He expected Giovanni’s pet Kazam at some point this evening, but he could never get over seeing it in person. This tall, lanky, shaggy beast, with disconcertingly intelligent eyes that made the man’s thoughts feel exposed. It just felt wrong in that horribly familiar way - the same way that mutated Mew clone felt wrong. A creature out of time, out of this dimension.

Ducking under the doorframe, Nico couldn’t hide the shade of annoyance in his stare as he watched Cyrus shiver at his presence. Usually, humans tried to hide their unsettled reactions to him. This one looked at him like he was even more of a monster than usual; something Nico was better at ignoring, once. Back when he could convince himself that he was more than just a hideous mad science experiment. Nowadays, it was more difficult to keep up that facade. The Alakazam got straight to the point, in hopes that it would distract Cyrus from his unfortunate existence.

_“I hope you realize what I risk by seeing you behind my master’s back.”_

“Y-yes, well,” Cyrus swallowed, straightened his posture, and pointedly looked away from him. “I shouldn’t exactly be talking to you, either. I know Giovanni likes to keep his pets to himself.”

With his eyes averted, he didn’t notice the way Nico’s unkempt whiskers waggled with a sneer. Cyrus took a deep breath through his nose, and finally settled his bloodshot eyes on the strange clone. “These days Giovanni has been rather erratic, wouldn’t you say? You can say it, of course. I won’t berate you for speaking ill of your master.”

Nico tugged at a few flyaway whisker hairs. _“It’s not my place to psychoanalyze my master.”_

“Oh, but you’re a psychic type, aren’t you? Surely you can sense the coherency of his thoughts.”

 _“For your information, I would_ **_never_ ** _read my master’s mind, for any reason.”_ There was forcefulness behind Nico’s retort. A sense of being merely offended by the assumption masked a subtle, underlying fear. _“I’m sure you’re acquainted enough with him to understand why.”_

“Fear of punishment?”

 _“Fear of what I’d find.”_ The Alakazam’s eyes narrowed. Cyrus felt just a little smaller as a result.

“I see.” Cyrus nodded, and looked away again. He briefly wondered just how much worse his own anxiety would be if he could read any thought that entered his peripheral. Especially Giovanni’s.

With an unsteady hand, Cyrus produced his notes again. A thick, disorganized folder full of observations and news clippings, usually accompanied with a note of how the event transpired differently, to his knowledge. “I suppose Giovanni started to act quite strangely some time within the last few years?”

The Alakazam’s ears flicked back, and Nico considered his words carefully. _“Strangely? Not especially. He made a few unorthodox decisions, at best, but nothing I would have questioned.”_

Cyrus raised his eyebrows. “Unorthodox how?”

Somehow, the clone looked all the more bizarre for the human-like body language he exhibited. Cyrus had known normal Kazam before, and they wouldn’t slouch self-consciously or shift their posture to reflect their nervousness. Nico’s ears flattened behind his head, as he hesitated to speak.

_“Well, six years ago Giovanni caught me and another subordinate at the time in a… compromising position. He punished us severely, and bade us to never see each other again, under pain of death. It wasn’t more than three years later that he completely reversed his decision, and suddenly I was set to work with her again. I didn’t complain, of course.”_

Cyrus rubbed the five o’clock shadow that was forming along his jaw. “It had to do with that Mew clone, didn’t it?”

There was the slightest hint of resentment burning behind Nico’s tired eyes. _“Yes, sir.”_

“Of course it did.” Cyrus sighed, and flipped through the folder to find somewhere to write the note down. More puzzle pieces to put together later. Nico watched him suspiciously.

_“What is going on here, exactly?”_

Cyrus sounded already exhausted from the sheer weight behind that question. “Do you want the long or short of it? It’s… a very long story.”

The clone seemed exhausted himself, slouching into a levitating sitting position. Reclining on an invisible chair, legs crossed in a condescending pose not unlike Giovanni. _“Humor me.”_

Cyrus gave him a deathly serious look. “Me and Giovanni are refugees from a doomed universe. Giovanni used the Mew clone from our world to try and subdue the Legendary Pantheon with its superior power, and we caught the attention of Arceus and his divine judgment. We only managed to escape by employing the technology one of our allies was working on, trying to open interdimensional rifts.”

There was a beat of tense, awkward silence. The Alakazam narrowed his eyes again. _“Uh… huh.”_

“I don’t expect you to believe me.” Cyrus ran a hand through his graying, unkempt hair. “In our universe, the Mewtwo Giovanni cloned was different; more genetically pure, if Gio’ is to be believed.”

He watched Nico’s ears flick forward in acknowledgment. _“Those plans for a different clone, was that not-”_

“In our reality, that was the only one we tried to make.” Cyrus mumbled a ‘thank god,’ under his breath, and sat on the edge of his unkempt desk. “I don’t know why this universe played the process out differently this time. I’ve been going over every detail I can find, trying to isolate the exact differences between this world and ours.”

Nico fidgeted with the frayed ends of his whiskers as he considered Cyrus’ story. He didn’t object to it, or try to disprove it like Dr. Fuji’s dreams, but there was clearly a critical look in his stare. _“Fascinating. Did this other clone ever object to being subordinate to Giovanni, with its superior power?”_

“Well, he had methods of keeping it compliant, you see; mostly sedatives, things to keep it calm and controlled. The more it acted out, the more I’d see it drugged up and half dead the next day. Gio’ declawed it, defanged it, had some sort of failsafe device plugged into its spine-”

 _“-That’s enough.”_ Cyrus watched the giant clone’s ears draw back with distaste. With a compulsive jerk of his hand, Nico plucked a long hair from his muzzle. 

_“So this particular clone, it was left along with the world you abandoned?”_

“God, I hope so.” Cyrus admitted quietly under his breath, repositioning himself in his seat to mask his nervousness. “Unfortunately, Giovanni is just obsessed with that thing. Always has been. As soon as he caught wind of that other clone not being the exact same as it, he seems to be convinced that it might still be around.”

Cyrus watched Nico try to process the strange and unbelievable tale he had just spun. The Alakazam went from tugging at his whisker hairs to scratching his scruffy chin.

_“This raises a lot of interesting questions. For one, it’s not like you and Giovanni didn’t exist in this world before your… arrival. So, what happened to the Cyrus and Giovanni of this universe?”_

“What do you think?” Cyrus shrugged, belying how the question made the color drain from his face. “We got rid of them. As soon as Giovanni saw himself, he just…” 

He mimed the motion of a throat being slit. “Didn’t even flinch. He had to help me with mine because I couldn’t do it myself. Having to look your alternate self in the eye is… not something any mortal was meant to do.”

 _“You should try being a clone, if that taste of existential crisis left you wanting.”_ Nico smirked at the hollow look in the man’s eyes. 

“I hope you understand why Giovanni and I have been run rather ragged, now.” Cyrus glowered impotently at the clone, knowing he was unable to make his story sound any less ridiculous. “Every day I fear we approach closer to our doom. What we did, it was unforgivable; our crimes are beyond reparation. We unleashed something beyond any mere pokemon onto the world. We created the Adversary to Arceus, and all of his children.”

 _“The Adversary.”_ Nico seemed to linger on that word, his expression unreadable, undoubtedly going through every mention of the world stored in the compartments of his memory. _“Interesting thing to call it. Kazam liked to call mankind the adversary to pokekind. Some cultural myths mention the union between the two kingdoms would destroy both, but ‘a pokemon created by mankind’ could be translated into many things; a clone, a hybrid child, maybe even one of the objectum species. A broad concept that could be applied to many examples.”_

Cyrus raised an eyebrow at his observation. “We didn’t have that myth in our universe.”

A pregnant pause filled the room with silence again, as the two men from two different kingdoms stared each other down.

Nico tilted his head minutely. _“Did you have_ **_me_ ** _in your universe?”_

Cyrus silently shook his head. The Alakazam ran his whisker hairs between his fingers thoughtfully. _“Apparently, a significant part of the escaped clone’s DNA was leftover samples from the project I came from. He’s probably the closest thing I have to blood family that isn’t a fellow Bucephalus clone.”_

Cyrus squinted. “What do you think that means?”

 _“I think that makes it something else to add to your list of universe discrepancies.”_ There was still an unreadable, almost distant look in the clone’s eyes. He played off whatever feelings that evoked in him with a shrug. _“At any rate, you can sleep soundly knowing that the mutant is hardly adversarial material.”_

* * *

Bracing against the brisk autumn wind, Mewtwo felt at peace in his flight through the trees. The cold weather stripped the surrounding woods of their leaves, and made navigating it much more forgiving while he adjusted to his full power again. He felt a little more confident in leaving the safehouse while uninhibited, at least for a short time. Anything to combat the cabin fever that came from getting a taste of life on the road.

Below him, a motorbike cut through the forest on the narrow dirt road. Mewtwo wasn’t sure where Char was guiding him, but he trusted her. Whether he trusted her with the bike was another story.

As they started to enter occupied suburbs, he went from darting between trees to navigating rooftops. Anything to keep from being seen by the humans on the ground. As he still adjusted to his power, it was getting easier to perceive the mental signature of strangers nearby and know how to stay out of their line of sight. And if they did glimpse him, it didn’t take much to try and steer their thoughts towards something else. Humans had particularly distractible trains of thought.

Heading deeper into the old quarter of Saffron, the buildings took on a dated but maintained style. Some of the historical sites had been there for over a hundred years; just one of the many facts Mewtwo had absorbed from the internet and gushed about enthusiastically.

_“-The Flight of Moltres in 1923 burned down most of the city at the time, which is why only the brick and mortar could be salvaged. I wish I could have seen how everything looked before; who knows what could have been kept standing if they didn’t-”_

“Two, honey, trying to drive here.” Char mumbled under her breath while she was stuck at a stoplight. Above her, Mewtwo watched the strange pattern and etiquette behind traffic direction. He didn’t really take Char for someone who drove, but apparently bikes were commonly used on the routes. Frankly, he thought they were loud and smelly deathtraps, but she wasn’t keen on being flown, instead.

_“Sorry, I’ve just been reading about the city all morning. Did you know the gym used to be a communal meditation center run by a psychic guru that was later debunked as a charlatan alongside his Alakazam partner?”_

Char couldn’t help but smile to herself. She could tolerate the stream of consciousness rambling; it meant he was happy.

Mewtwo waited patiently as Char experienced the human world below him. Part of him was jealous of the way she could confidently, casually just _exist_ in public, but he knew in her shoes he couldn’t tolerate the crowds. Why were there so many people just walking around? Did they really all have lives of their own, with goals they were reaching as they filed down sidewalks and gathered at crossing signs? At this height, he equated them all with some sort of liquid mass, pouring in large, loose globs of people whenever the sign bade them to keep moving. Char almost disappeared within them, as he watched her duck into one of the stores.

Minutes ticked by. Mewtwo tried to politely start smalltalk with the city Pidgey that boldly perched around him, but they didn’t seem to care. He was surprised at how little regard the less sapient pokemon actually had for his strange nature; they didn’t seem to fear him the way humans feared him. Then again, these were city birds. They feared no man nor beast. Especially if those men or beasts had bread.

When Char finally reappeared, he watched eagerly as she ducked into an empty alley, just like they planned. There was a brown paper bag in her hand.

 _“Hold on,”_ Mewtwo’s telepathy made Char pause, _“I’m going to try and blink again.”_

“Please don’t do it too close to me again-” Char warned, and immediately yelped from the sudden reappearance of the clone, again too close for comfort. She clutched the bag as she took a step backward.

Mewtwo winced. _“Sorry!”_

“Fuck’s sake,” Char mumbled, and reached inside the bag. She presented him with a warm, delicious-smelling little box. “I got you pork this time, I think you might like it.”

Mewtwo’s tailtip swished happily as he opened it up, his mouth watering over three fresh, steamed dumplings. _“It’s not spicy again, is it?”_

“No, baby.” Char still smiled as she rolled her eyes. Earlier attempts to give him mildly spicy things resulted in him acting like he just ingested acid. Mewtwo eyed her own food suspiciously, knowing that she probably got something extra hot just to keep him from sneaking bites.

Sitting on the stoop of a backdoor, away from the mass of crowds but still close enough to hear the soft ambience of the city, the two of them contentedly dug in. Char smirked knowingly, watching Mewtwo’s expression change from scrutiny to joy after the first bite.

“Good?”

 _“Yes!”_ Mewtwo licked his whiskers. The trainer chuckled endearingly.

“They’re Hoenn style, my dad used to fry a bunch and give them out between gym matches.” Nostalgia shone in Char’s eyes as she unfolded the top of a takeaway box. A much spicier scent wafted from her noodles.

The clone stole glances at her as she skillfully used the disposable chopsticks. It was risky, taking Mewtwo into the city, but the joy it gave him was worth it. Char hated that she just made him go from one underground bunker to another; he was free, and that meant exploring a little. The undercurrent of fear would always be there, but now that he was uninhibited he at least had methods to defend himself. As clumsy as they were.

The burner phone in Char’s pocket went off, and Mewtwo helpfully slipped it out while she fumbled with setting her food down. A text from Sabrina made it clear she knew what Char was doing. “Ah, fuck, Sab’s gonna chew me out when we get back.”

 _“Looks like she’s currently in the process.”_ Mewtwo pointed out, referring to the animated ellipses at the bottom of an accusatory _‘where are you THIS time?’_ Char was about to reply cheekily, when the next message gave her pause.

_The doctor is here._

Mewtwo felt a chill run down his spine, threatening to upset his full stomach.

* * *

True to Char’s word, Sabrina was already primed to lecture her as soon as they snuck back into the center. The psychic woman was still in her gym uniform, having just gotten off work. She still had a team of pokemon at her belt and everything.

“You better have escape plans in place for when he inevitably gets spotted by someone, you know. Rocket agents are crawling all over the place, the city’s the last place you need to be-”

“It’s easier to hide a psychic in the city than in the woods.” Char was blunt, and unwilling to get into another argument about this.

“They’re looking for _you_ , not him.” Sabrina glared at the shorter trainer. Underneath her anger, Mewtwo could sense her fear clearly; she confronted her because she cared.

“You think I don’t know that? Welcome to my fuckin’ _life_.” Char leaned into her personal space, only to be gently pulled back by the shoulder. Mewtwo gave Sabrina an apologetic look.

_“I was the one who wanted to go out, I’m sorry. I know I need to be more careful.”_

Sabrina frowned, but found it harder to point her ire towards a pokemon than a human. “Recapturing is a thing, you know. You’re vulnerable and you’re still getting back into your proper powers; I don’t care what kind of Legendary you’re supposed to be, you’re _at risk._ ”

With a huff, Sabrina willed herself to settle down. Behind her, the lights clicked on in a room that was otherwise vacant; Medical Suite #1, if Char’s memory of center layouts was correct. A tall and narrow shouldered figure came out, and the trainer’s jaw dropped.

The blonde, bespectacled doctor gave her a similar, if not more shaken look of surprise. “Wait - _Jessop?!”_

“Bright!”

Mewtwo gawked at the young doctor striding towards them, and instinctively pushed back with his mind. It still took some getting accustomed to, being able to actually manifest the powers he was used to fruitlessly imagine himself doing. The man was knocked off his feet.

“Wai-wait! I can explain!” Instead of getting to his feet, Bright held his hands up defensively.

_“What the hell are you doing here?!”_

Char bristled from the hurt and anger in Mewtwo’s words, taking her turn to pull him away from confrontation. “Honey, it’s alright, he’s cool. He helped us escape.”

Bright lowered his eyes from the furious glare of the clone. “I’m sorry, I couldn’t exactly tell you who I was back there.”

 _“You said you couldn’t help me!”_ Mewtwo snarled, and the lights flickered. _“You looked me in the eyes and told me there was nothing you could do!”_

“There _wasn’t_ anything I could do!” Bright shouted back, scrambling to his feet. He adjusted his glasses with an overwhelmed sigh.

“I’m sorry... I’m sorry.” There wasn’t anything else he could say. Char’s heart ached in sympathy as she watched the clone’s breath hitch and his eyes water. Trying to touch him resulted in him flinching away.

 _“I h-had to kill people because I didn’t think I had a choice,”_ Mewtwo sniffled, wiping his eyes against his forearm. _“Then you put this thing in my head, and start treating me like a monster, just like everyone else! Why? Why should I trust you?”_

The lights fizzled out. Mewtwo shivered as he felt Char’s arms wrap around him, unafraid of the power behind his emotions.

“Honey, it’s over. Alright? What’s done is done, there’s no use getting upset.”

Bright blinked in the darkness, with only the sunlight streaming through the boarded windows giving him a hint of what was in front of him. He could hear a muffled sob, and see the vague shape of the trainer holding onto the clone.

“Besides,” Char mumbled against Mewtwo’s neck, “Everything happened the way it did so I could meet you, right?”

It was hard for Bright not to feel a tug at his own heartstrings, awkwardly stuck on the sidelines while Char tried to comfort the clone. The only thing that interrupted them was Sabrina coming out of the basement with a flashlight. She did a sweep of the abandoned center to try and zero in on them in the dark.

“Alright, fess up. Mewtwo, did you sneeze and break the generator _again?”_

 

Mewtwo excused himself, still upset and wanting to be alone as he settled down. Char fought with her own clinginess for the sake of his privacy, so she busied herself with the mess that was Bright’s side of the story. The doctor, to her continued surprise, was on a first name basis with Sabrina and Daphne, and familiar enough with the safehouse he made himself right at home. He caught Char’s suspicious eye immediately.

“Yeah, I guess I have some explaining to do, huh?”

“Start squealing, Spoink.”

Bright waited until she could sit down at the card table across from him. It made for a familiar scenario. “Yes, I work with the PSA. Yes, I lied to you, and everyone else for reasons that should be obvious.”

He removed his glasses to give them a nervous cleaning. “I was sent in from the Unova branch for the New Island project after we caught wind of it. They were concerned about something like the Bucephalus Project going down, so I volunteered to scout it out. I was actually trying to get backup while he escaped the first time.”

“But you told him you couldn’t.”

“He didn’t understand what I had to do. I wasn’t equipped to help him escape, I was only there to see if someone _did_ need to be rescued.” Bright paused as Daphne floated a fresh cup of coffee to him, and nodded in thanks.

 _“I can vouch for him,”_ the Kadabra added. _“He was specifically trying to get in touch with us.”_

“Then Mewtwo saw… _something_ that made him upset, and fear for his future. So he escaped his own way.” The man still had the cloud of grief in his eyes, to Char’s quiet surprise. “I’m going to be honest, I saw him differently after that. I never actually saw how a psychic could retaliate against humans like that, until now.”

“So you thought that inhibitor was justified.” Char kept a straight face, but there was an increasingly firm grip on the edge of the card table.

“I was _afraid_ , alright?” Bright was wide-eyed, his nerves fraying under her stare. “I was afraid that he was going to lose control! I just… wanted to keep tabs on him for a second attempt to free him, but then Gio’ put Nico in charge and well; you can’t exactly easily make plans around a mindreader.”

There was an audible scraping sound from Char’s fingernails, as she dragged them against the surface of the table. While they relaxed around the rec room, all of her pokemon seemed to perk up, noticing her growing anger. Bright swallowed his nerves and stood his ground.

“I’m sorry. I became complicit because I was hurt, and that was wrong of me. We’re all here now, so... please, let me make this right.”

It was hard to look Char directly in the eye. It wasn’t from some burning spark of fury within them, or the pained look of betrayal; she simply seemed to go blank. At a certain point, anger consumed the light in her eyes. Bright watched her fight against that desire to simply give into dissociation, and face him with a clearer head.

“You’re damn lucky you’re supposed to be on our side.”

Bright bowed his head plaintively. “I know.”

* * *

Finding Mewtwo was exceptionally more difficult now that he could fly again. Char turned down the help of the other psychics at the safehouse, preferring to talk to him in private. Fortunately, his regained power made it easier for him to find her first.

Sitting on the ‘back porch’ that an open loading dock made, Char simply waited, and watched the treeline. Eventually the shaking of the trees heralded his presence. He wasn’t exactly subtle; still clumsy and clearly not enjoying the cold. The sun would be setting soon, and Char knew he was too much of an indoor cat to stay out all night.

Eventually, he floated down, hovering above the cold ground and grimly hugging himself for warmth. Char shrugged off her jacket for him. “You ready to come inside and face him, or do you wanna talk first?”

Mewtwo sat next to her, close enough to try and enjoy some of her body heat as he wrapped himself in her old bomber jacket. It had become a comfortingly familiar thing, worn but soft like she was. Putting her arm around him, Char felt the muted vibration of his purring through the leather.

_“I wish he helped me when he could. Maybe I was naive then, but it still hurts.”_

“Getting pokemon like you out of these situations is complicated,” Char rested her head on his shoulder, soothed a bit by the purring herself. “When they go wrong, everything falls to pieces.”

Mewtwo’s shoulders sagged with a sigh. _“I don’t know if I could have gotten this far without you. I don’t even know if I’d even be alive. I think about what would have happened if things went differently a lot; how i wouldn’t even be here if you weren’t the one who captured me in the first place, how that wouldn’t have happened if I didn’t break out of the lab…”_

“Well, doesn’t that mean Bright’s sort of… responsible for us meeting, kinda?”

Char watched Mewtwo think on those words. He held her tighter, wrapping his tail around her for good measure. Holding onto her, as if thinking about a universe without her would make her fade away.

“What happened, happened, baby,” Char soothed, “there’s no use worrying about what-ifs. You don’t live in those worlds, you live here. I dunno about you, but I think that’s a pretty good deal.”

Mewtwo managed a quiet chuckle. _“That’s true.”_

The sun was coloring the sky with its slowly disappearing light, illuminating the silhouette of the treeline with tones of soft blues and golds. The breeze was cold, but the air was clean and refreshing outside of the city. The quietness of the world sunk into them, and left them peaceful. Mewtwo, his mind ever-restless, still wondered in awe of the staggeringly, infinitesimally small odds for them to be here, in this moment. He let out a contented sigh into Char’s hair.

_“C’mon, let’s get this over with.”_

* * *

Under the harsh, sterile light of the operating room, Char felt a certain, unpleasant nostalgia. As someone with a baseline nurse certification and a lifetime of experience in amateur patch-ups, Bright trusted her to assist him. Having her around would keep Mewtwo calmer, at any rate.

The man paused before administering the anesthetic, getting Mewtwo’s attention before the clone could try to dissociate from the ordeal. “When we remove the device, we’re going to return you to a pokeball for a reconfiguration, it’ll be the quickest and easiest way to-”

 _“No,”_ Mewtwo interrupted, still staring pointedly at the ceiling and away from any of the upsetting equipment. _“I want the scars. I want to be reminded of what I did to get this far.”_

“Well, okay…” Bright trailed off uncertainly, giving Char a brief glance. Underneath her surgical mask and cap, the temporary Joy gave the clone a stony look, and nodded. She seemed to rub off on him, just a bit.

Mewtwo was still visibly stressed as the first needle was employed. Char honestly couldn’t wait until he went under; she felt his panic keenly, and her guilt over it was the only thing stronger. She gave him a soothing stroke along his jaw.

“Hey. It’ll be okay. I’ll see you on the other side, alright?”

Mewtwo whispered love and adoration into her head, and it was far louder than her guilt and regrets.


	18. Chapter 18

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [TW: abuse, sexual content]

Nicodemus laid in quiet contemplation in his quarters, his eyes closed but his mind exhaustively alert, as always. Another restless night, for a pokemon who frequently needed to rest that oversized brain of his. Insomnia was endemic to the Kazam. Another thing humans inadvertently instilled in their stolen Abra children, resulting in stunted Kadabra and, very rarely, fully fledged Alakazam. As a relic of a past before the dominion of humanity, Nico didn’t have that excuse. He was just another flawed clone, among surviving siblings also riddled with health issues.

All that time spent learning how to still his mind and find that place of centering within him didn’t do shit. He may have learned to compartmentalize his inexhaustible memory so the information didn’t overwhelm him, but he could never truly  _ repress _ it. Ironic, considering his most valuable skill. All those memories were his now, absorbed and carefully tucked away. A lifetime of experiments, trials, and tests. A catalogue of Giovanni’s endless contempt for him. Venus, and all of the  _ baggage _ Charlotte left him with. And now, that…  _ thing. _

Nico had taken in a lot of strange, unbelievable experiences from the memories he read, and just as many dreams and delusions. Cyrus was not dreaming. When he saw the world end, he was fully lucid. Even after the harrowed man warned him before letting him into his mind, Nico still wasn’t ready.

The razing and the fire was a bit much; a little too much like an overblown disaster movie. Entire cities were being destroyed, systematically, as every Legendary got its revenge on the usurper race. Sure, they could sleep on humanity turning this place into a hellhole, but a god-clone disturbing them? Obviously crossing the line. 

This entire story was getting more ridiculous by the second; and yet, the resulting aftermath felt real. The terror upon seeing Arceus felt real.  _ That _ Arceus, the Lord-of-Lords, the Originator, among a hundred other names attributed to it. The Legendary that Kazam rarely spoke of, preferring its much less terrifying son, Myuu.

Where  _ was _ Myuu in all this, anyways? You’d think he’d be more upset about the clone thing.

The clone in question could be seen with crystal clarity in Cyrus’ memories; tall, thin and alien, even more unnatural than the one Nico was accustomed to. Nico got glimpses of its life up until the end, through Cyrus’ eyes. The wide-eyed, confused kitten sort of innocence it had when first ‘born’ didn’t last long under Giovanni’s care. Nico knew that experience all too well, but at least he got to  _ have _ a childhood, as shitty as it still was. This bastard was dropped, fully formed, into a world that it wasn’t a part of. Into a system it didn’t understand.

The Adversary that stared down the descending Arceus in Cyrus’ final memories was almost an entirely new being from the one that left the tank. A being baptized in the fires of a hell made by Giovanni’s ambition. The man himself barked at it to return, and the clone gave him a final, bitter look before matter-to-data programming unmade its physical form. Maybe a sane man would have left it there to burn.

Nico wasn’t thrilled to add  _ ‘the literal apocalypse’ _ to his bank of unpleasant, unwanted memories, but he didn’t have a choice. As a Kazam, he was burdened with ‘infinite knowledge’; and as an  _ Ala _ kazam, he was burdened with that  _ plus _ an extra risk of brain cancer.

And now, the Adversary was going to join the highest echelons of his fear and contempt; a new spectre to haunt the back of his mind. A friend for the ghost of the Gardevoir that Charlotte passed onto him like a virus, as he recklessly tried to erase it from her life. At least he was certain Venus was  _ dead _ . Its occasional reappearance in his thoughts, and the sickly, artificial feeling of comfort that was tied to it could be dismissed as a side effect of amateur memory tampering. They were young, and he was in love. Seeing how distressed she was from the chunks missing from her life, he promised to never do it again.

_ ‘-I want to believe that it was just a short relapse, I really do; but you know I can’t just keep…  _ **_losing_ ** _ parts of me.’ _

Trying and failing to keep his thoughts centered, Nico grimaced at the resurfaced memory. Boy, it was going to take a while to tuck  _ that _ moment into some place far enough that it wouldn’t bother him.

* * *

The suppression armor, for now an inert husk on a rack for Giovanni to admire, had changed considerably between the two realities he experienced. The old one was simple, and broke easily after the first couple of ‘tantrums’. This one was robust and intricate, finely tuned in a way only a psychic could have made.

In a way, Giovanni wondered if the presence of Nicodemus would be the keystone to his success, this time around. Sure, getting back to ‘his’ desk at the end of a long, hard day of killing himself and seeing this giant freak of nature enter his office was a nightmare; but after the initial shock, he saw potential. Not unlike the Adversary (Giovanni was  _ absolutely _ going to call it that from now on), the Alakazam was bitter and resentful underneath the veneer of obedience. His spirit was broken, with the armor being an example of how far he would go now for his master’s approval. The only scrap of attention he was allowed to enjoy without guilt.

If Nico was the modern Bucephalus, Giovanni was surely that ancient and mythical king, taming the beasts to use against their kind. Giovanni didn’t even see himself as a psy trainer before, but he was definitely seeing the appeal of power. Maybe he’ll collect a few more; Espeon seemed rather fashionable. Not that he would replace his Persian, of course. He’s not a  _ monster _ .

Used to the intimidation effect the Kazam had on others, Giovanni barely made a note of acknowledging his arrival. Nico had been looking worse for wear ever since his pathetic failure, ungroomed and haggard. Tired, depressed, broken down once more. He should have known better than to get tangled up with a woman.

Giovanni raised an eyebrow at the psychic. “You look like shit. Not over that pokephile yet, are we?”

Nico shrank back, reluctant to have her brought up again.  _ “I’ll be fine, master. In due time.” _

Giovanni just scoffed, giving the Kazam a critical look that made Nico straighten his posture self-consciously. “You should be lucky that I repeatedly keep giving these chances to redeem yourself. I put too much goddamn money into you to throw you out now.”

Nico showed no reaction to that.  _ “I’ll do whatever I can to earn your forgiveness, master.” _

“Alright, then; what are you bothering me for this time?”

Nico bowed his head before the man, hesitating as he gathered the courage to speak up in front of him.  _ “Master, I have to ask: is it all true?” _

The businessman smirked in that awful, mirthless way. “Found out, did you? Did Cyrus spill the beans, or did you just pick it all out of his head yourself?”

_ “Cyrus and I discussed your situation at length,”  _ Nico admitted, wringing his large, two-fingered hands restlessly.  _ “I’m not sure what to think of it. Exactly what do you have to gain by subduing the entire pantheon?” _

Giovanni chuckled darkly, looking into the bloodshot eyes of this beast, this servant made specifically for him. “What do you think? I’m making things right. Putting the world back into the order it was meant to be in. Putting  _ myself _ in charge.”

He turned away from Nico to gaze at the armor he hoped to see worn once again. “Gaining control of Mewtwo -  _ my _ Mewtwo - was life changing. I felt powerful. It felt  _ right _ . Whole regions bowed before me. The League even tried to bargain with me. The goddamn League! Afraid of  _ me!” _

He laughed, genuinely, like the memories of his old world were nostalgic for him. “Even when shit started to go south, I was on top of the world. All I need now is to figure out how to grab Arceus before it can spoil my fun again.”

_ “Arceus? You want to try and capture Arceus?” _ Nico asked, incredulously.

“Of course! Fuck, maybe I’ll clone that one, too!” Giovanni laughed again, brash and grating. “Nah, I’m joking, of course. But I do want it on my mantle, for having the gall to try and stop me. Maybe that’s petty of me.”

With a fond sigh of reminiscence, the man raked his trembling fingers through his hair. “I’m going to be honest, watching the world burn was exhilarating. I dream about that day every night, over and over again, and I get a little closer to the Adversary each time. What does it mean?”

_ “It means that-” _

“That was a  _ rhetorical question!” _ The man barked, and Nico flinched away from him. Giovanni glared at the hulking psychic, watching the fear in his eyes give way to dull obedience once more.

“At first, I thought you telling me that the clone from this universe was some fucked up mutant instead was going to ruin everything. But then I realized; those Legendaries were so afraid of it they had to raze the entire world they created, and it was  _ still _ standing. Still protecting  _ me _ . I brought that Master Ball with me when we jumped through that portal, and even if it wasn’t on me when we reached the other side, that only means it could be somewhere else.”

Giovanni flicked on a transparent screen over one of the terminals, and entered a passcode. A list of locations unfurled before them. “I’ve been narrowing down places I used it against Legendaries before; there’s no sense in not being thorough. The exact date we had to flee is coming up, and if the  _ ‘pantheon’ _ doesn’t strike me down by then, then at least that would be one victory.”

Nico’s ears were flat behind his head as he studied the disheveled, manic man before him.  _ “Master, even if what you say is true, there’s no way you can be certain if-” _

“Don’t question me!” Giovanni snarled, a terrifying intensity behind his eyes. Nico held his breath, and stood his ground.

_ “Master, this is ridiculous. Even if it’s true, do you really think you can get away with doing it again? Do you  _ **_really_ ** _ think you were given a second chance? You’re clearly not in control of your faculties, this Adversary nonsense is making you lose your damn mind!” _

Nico instantly regretted speaking against him, a chill of fear coursing through him as he watched surprise flash through Giovanni’s eyes. The man gave the Alakazam a cruel grin.

“Still can’t get over not being your trainer’s pet, can you? What’s the matter, I’ve kept you around this long, haven’t I? Even after you’ve long outlived your usefulness.” He glanced towards the suppression armor Nico so graciously supplied him. The superior design that would surely turn the tide of a fate set in a previous world.

“You’re lucky I don’t have time to punish you. You’re on thin fucking ice for letting that other clone escape in the first place. Unless you want to be the one to put the armor on for calibration?”

_ “N-no, master.” _

Giovanni gave Nico a withering glare. “You may not even have a choice. When I get my pokemon back, I’ll need to have this armor adjusted to its signature. The hybrid clone would have been perfect for that, but you had to go and muck that up, didn’t you?”

Nico struggled to keep eye contact.  _ “I apologize for speaking out of turn, master.” _

He felt helpless, as always, facing a man who was by all accounts smaller and more fragile than him. A pink, fleshy, vulnerable human; a mortal man that he could kill with a thought. It was always in the back of his mind, but… what good would it do? As a terrifying mutant, Nico had no place in the world. He had convinced himself to be grateful for the chance to heel at Giovanni’s feet, and beg for purpose.

Habit made him want to grovel before the man and try to appeal to him again, but for what? Charlotte was gone, and Giovanni himself was… rapidly deteriorating. More than the threat of his security through being replaced, Nico now had to worry about the goddamn world potentially ending.

This was… beyond him. Bigger than him. Everything was pointing towards something terrible. Perfectly preserved by his memory, the Adversary still bore holes into Nico with its stare. Behind it, he could almost tell where it was standing. 

He may have been there before.

* * *

The first of many icy rains pelted Route Six; you had to be a madman to still be on the route by now. It was the fact of a bitter, central Kanto winter that made staying at the safehouse feel a little less exposed. It would be harder for insurgents to hide amongst bare trees, just like it would be harder for them to endure the ice and the cold. Luckily, the safehouse was warm and well-insulated.

Bright lingered after the surgery to ensure Mewtwo’s recovery; now, he was staying because he didn’t want to get caught in the miserable weather. All the while, Sabrina kept an eye on Rocket activity in the city, while her partner kept an ear to the underground. The network of sapience advocates and other anti-League groups was dense, and encounters with established criminal gangs were frequent. Team Rocket preyed on their people for a long time already.

It was almost too quiet, both in terms of enemy activity and domestic life. Daphne continued scouring for any whispering of Rocket plans over the web. Sabrina busied herself by brushing out the vixen’s tail, hunched over while the foster kitt stubbornly held onto her shoulders. He had been there for over an hour, and her back was getting tired. At least the Abra wasn’t trying to use her hair as handholds anymore.

At first, the lights of the rec room blinked sporadically. Then, they blinked in a steady rhythm, enough for Sabrina to groan as the television went to static and the internet disconnected.

“Goddammit, they’re at it  _ again _ .”

_ “It’s your turn to yell at them,”  _ Daphne’s ears flattened against her head while she fruitlessly refreshed the wifi network.

“I have the baby right now, he doesn’t need to see that!” Sabrina protested, patting the Abra’s head for emphasis. Her partner gave her a slightly disgusted squint.

_ “Wait, you opened the door on them while they-” _

“I was curious,” Sabrina admitted quickly, blushing. She covered the kitt’s ears and leaned in close to whisper to the Kadabra.  _ “... it really is like a Kazam’s.” _

Daphne’s eyes widened, and they briefly flicked towards the end of the hallway.  _ “Well, I… I guess that makes sense, anatomically.” _

Glancing at the 404 browser page on her laptop, she relented.  _ “Fine, I’ll do it, then.” _

As the power became more unstable, so did the muffled sounds that could be heard clearer the farther Daphne floated down to the very end of the hallway. There was a trainer’s pokeball belt hanging on the doorknob. When she knocked, there was an audible cuss, and the creaking of a mattress as the room’s occupants rushed to get their shit together. A disheveled Char opened the door a few inches, obviously and unabashedly nude.

Daphne covered her eyes half-heartedly.  _ “Good lord, Charlotte; have you no decency?” _

Char shrugged, a sleazy grin creeping onto her face. “C’mon Daph’, other’n a few new scars, this ain’t nothing you haven’t seen before.”

_ “Y-yes, well, at least either have ‘Two reign in his… ‘emotional psychic interference’ or get a motel room, already!” _

Behind Char, a bandaged Mewtwo preserved his modesty with a towel around his waist, and gave the Kadabra a shy smile.  _ “Sorry… it’s hard to stop it when I’m uh, ‘distracted’.” _

Daphne sighed. _ “Look, just… take it easy, okay? How many times are you going to fuck in a day, anyways?” _

She groaned, and looked away from the smirk Char gave her.  _ “You know what? Nevermind. Just watch the generator, alright? You already melted the old one.” _

_ “Sorry, ma’am, I’ll fix it if I break it again.” _ Mewtwo promised solemnly, looking like a scolded kitt who knew exactly what he was doing.

Clearly, there was nothing Daphne could really do to stop them; it’s not like she hadn’t been there. The flame of passion was always the brightest when freshly lit. If she had newfound freedom from a situation like his, she’d probably spend these rare, peaceful moments railing her girlfriend, too.

_ “Fine, alright,” _ The vixen huffed, running a hand over her ears in an exasperated, human-like gesture.  _ “I’ll leave you to it, then. Uh. Have fun?” _

Char cackled, her face red and slightly sweaty from exertion. “Already way ahead of you.”

She was all too eager to slam the door shut and lock it as soon as the vixen left. The naked woman turned to her equally sweat-stained and excited lover. “Now, where were we?”

 

Between travelling, the false starts cut short by their respective pains, and Mewtwo’s post-surgery recovery, the anticipation to finally enjoy some intimacy together was at a fever pitch. Char promised him that it always sucked the first time; you didn’t know what to do, or if you were doing it right, let alone if it felt good to the other person. Mewtwo felt relieved when she called sex ‘anxiety hell’. Regardless, she didn’t refuse him, either.

True to her word, he got a little more confident in what he was doing each time. Of course, they’d have to practice some more, and it’s not like there was anything else to do. Char gave the clone the lightest shove, and he eagerly fell back onto the bed.

“Gonna be honest; it’s cute when you start to lose control.” Char chuckled into Mewtwo’s ear, taking her seat in his lap once more. The clone helped her settle back into their previous position.

Mewtwo was naked usually, sure, but he never  _ felt _ naked until she first carefully knelt down between his legs, and put her lips to him. He quickly gathered that sex was more than just an exchange of pleasure, it was an exercise in trust and boundaries as well. And for him, control. Control over his emotional feedback, control over his connection to her, control over his body… now that he wasn’t being held back, the worry of losing his grip on himself lingered in the back of his mind.

He was content to give that control over to Char for this; she knew what she was doing. To an impressive degree of experience, in some respects. Taking advantage of a day where her arthritic pain was more manageable, she invited Mewtwo to try ‘some new things’ with her, guiding him into a more confident role. Holding her scar and ink-decorated body flush against his, he felt powerful. Maybe he really was the most powerful pokemon in the world, at this moment.

The lights burnt out completely after more erratic flickering, and the two women in the rec room loudly complained. Char could vaguely hear them over her heavy breathing, snickering in the dark.

“Yeah okay, maybe you do need to control yourself a little.”

Mewtwo Basked in the afterglow, drowsily watching Char redress herself. He repositioned himself to settle in next to her as she returned to the warmth of the occupied bed. The clone nuzzled her tangled hair contentedly.

_ “So, are we staying for the winter?” _

Char grunted against his collarbone, giving the crook of his neck a parting kiss as she pulled away to face him. her expression hardened into something more serious. “We can’t stay, hon. We’re leaving before the snow really starts hitting.”

_ “Where are we even going?” _

Mewtwo felt slightly guilty from the way she sighed. He felt the half-hidden creep of anxiety in the background of their connection; Char was reminded she was getting complacent. Going soft. He felt like he was spoiling the peace of their evening together by bringing it up, but there was no backing down now.

“We might try hitching a ride to Hoenn in one of those freighters that go between Cinnabar and Slateport. I dunno what the Rocket presence there is like these days, but I know more people there than I do here.” Char was going over a brief plan of what she’d have to do in her head; Mewtwo should have figured that sneaking into ports and stowing away on ships was something she was familiar with.

Mewtwo could also feel her uncertainty, and it was making him nervous too.  _ “Do you think they’re going to chase us overseas?” _

“They might,” Char admitted. “Honey, we’ll always have to try and stay ahead of them. Hoenn might give us enough distance, but then there’s always going to be fortune-seekers that’ll catch wind of you, or the League finding out you exist…. This is our life now, sweetheart; we’re going to have to keep moving.”

Mewtwo withdrew from her, sitting up only to curl back in on himself miserably.  _ “I know. I guess it’s naive of me to wish that could be a point where we stop having to run. Is that even possible?” _

An uneasy feeling passed between them, as Char seemed to bite back her reply. Mewtwo watched her expression turn uncertain in the darkness.

“Well, there is a way to stop running. You kill the people chasing you. You become the hunter, instead of the hunted.”

The emotion drained from her voice, the connection between them going as cold as her words. “Mewtwo, you have the ability to defend yourself again. Giovanni, he’s just a man. A mortal, mundane man that can be killed. Cut the head of the Ekans and the body dies with it.”

Mewtwo’s ears drew back with a growing fear.  _ “I don’t like what you’re implying, here.” _

Char flipped on the lamp at the bedside, to properly stare him down in the light. “I’m not implying shit. I’m straight up telling you: if you want to stop running from Gio’, kill him.”

The clone couldn’t look into the intensity of her eyes for long, choosing to turn away and fidget with the hem of the bedsheets.  _ “I don’t want to use my abilities to murder people.” _

Char sighed, the exasperation mixing with a slowly brewing storm of conflicted feelings on her end. Most of all, Mewtwo could sense that she felt helpless.

“‘Two, I knew a man like Giovanni, once. You know what I did? I stopped him. I made sure he could never hurt anyone like he hurt me ever again. Sometimes it’s the necessary thing to do.”

_ “I’m not  _ **_like_ ** _ you, Charlotte,” _ Mewtwo snapped back, uncharacteristically harsh.  _ “I’m not going to just become a weapon for you instead of him!” _

It felt wrong and alien to see the fire in Char’s eyes directed at him. Perhaps he said the wrong thing; it was too late now. He had to say it eventually. For a moment, they only stared in tense silence, unresolved conflict starting to bubble up in the background of their connection.

“Are you really going to feel better letting a man like that live?” Char’s voice was low and quiet. The accusation stung.

_ “N-no, but I, but I-” _ Mewtwo stammered, rubbing the faint bald patches still on the backs of his knuckles.  _ “I’m afraid, I guess. Not of him, but of myself. You don’t know what it’s like to know one wrong move on your part could kill everyone you love. I just have to concentrate and I could ruin you more than your Embrace ever did. I-I don’t want to get into the habit and find that I won’t be able to stop.” _

He looked away from her, unable to face her reaction to his words.  _ “I’m sorry. I’m a coward, I guess. A failure. I can’t even live up to the purpose I was designed for.” _

Mewtwo shivered, feeling cold from the anxiety pooling in his gut. It made Char’s hands on him feel starkly warm as she quietly pulled him closer to her. Her breathing was uneven; rattling in her chest as Mewtwo laid his head against it, rubbing tears into her bare skin. His lover gingerly stroked his muzzle, careful not to upset the bandages on his head.

“You’re a good man, ‘Two. Don’t turn into someone cruel like me.”

_ “You’re not cruel, Char.” _ Mewtwo straightened up to brush his whiskery muzzle against her cheek.  _ “You’re scared. You’re scared right now, even.” _

Char breathed deeply against his shoulder, taking in his familiar scent. Feeling the silken texture of his clean fur against her lips. It was strange, how something so familiar and comfortable still felt like a feat, like a miracle. Maybe it was the feedback of Mewtwo’s own naive wonderment at the smallest things. Maybe she was just an idiot, infatuated, sick with love and worry. Tainted by pain, and terror, and regret; living in fear that she would somehow poison him like it felt like she poisoned everyone else. She  _ was _ cruel. She  _ was _ bitter. She wanted to fight, and that desire would never go away.

“I still want him dead. I still want to kill him.”

_ “I know.” _ Mewtwo ran his fingers through her hair, fruitlessly trying to soothe her against herself.  _ “It’s okay.” _

* * *

Under the single lightbulb over the card table, a map was laid over it. The guests and hosts of the safehouse gathered around, as Char bent over it like a general plotting out the battlefield.

“We’ll pack lightly for this; we won’t be going on the route much. Sabs’ can drive us there in, what, a day? Helluva lot better n’ walking all the way to Palette.” Char traced the lines of the roads connecting the cities of Kanto like a web, trailing a straight line down to the coast.

Bright nodded in understanding. “Works for me, I’m taking the next charter to Unova. Er, legitimately, at least.”

“Daphne’s giving the kitt to her grandmother, so this works out.” Sabrina crossed her arms, looking down at the map thoughtfully. “We’ll just take the highway through Viridian, then south to the port when we drop her off.”

“Then we’ll grab a ferry to Cinnabar, and hitch a ride on one of those Devon Corp. ships.” The plan was shaping up in Char’s head, and it sounded simple, solid. Mewtwo was preoccupied with how strange it was to see the entire region laid out before them, cities inches away from each other on paper but days away in reality. The trip along Route Six took about a week on foot.  It would only take a ride from a charitable friend to turn twice the distance into a few hours of travel.

“We’ll pack light, keep the boys in their balls, and keep our heads down. This’ll work; hell, this is how I snuck into Kanto to begin with.”

Char shivered from a sudden chill, and looked sternly down at her own shadow. “Yeah, you too, buddy. ‘Bout time I have you on my belt with the rest of my team.”

Behind her, Yanna considered the pitch for their plans with a grim look on his face.  **“If you will rely on the cat for protection, so be it; but if you bring us out prematurely, I will assume the worst.”**

“You know me, it’s usually the worst.” 

Daphne had the most critical look of all of them, watching them talk out their plans on the sidelines.  _ “Alright, but what will you do when you reach Hoenn? Just because you’ll be out of Rocket territory doesn’t mean you’ll be safe.” _

“At least on home turf, I’ll have an advantage. I have family there; both blood and bond. Hell, if I gotta hide in a Hariyama den, I will.”

Yanna smirked, and rumbled with a scoff.  **“If you can convince my family to let you through the door, I’ll be impressed.”**

_ “Alright, but what are you going to do about me?” _ Mewtwo timidly tried to speak up, feeling somewhat left out of this whole situation.  _ “Will your family even know about me? Would they accept me? Are we just going to keep running, but in a different place?” _

“Honey,” Char curled an arm protectively around him, “Trust me. Whatever waits for us there can’t be worse than hiding from Gio’s goons in  _ this _ shithole for the rest of our lives.”

Mewtwo leaned into her one-armed embrace. As much as she tried to relay her confidence to him, he could feel the dull, ever-present worry of disaster looming over her shoulder. If they pulled this off, it would be a simple escape from the danger present in Kanto. If something went wrong, she would have to face how unprepared she really was.


	19. Chapter 19

The ride through southwestern Kanto was long, but peacefully uneventful. As Sabrina drove through the rural parts, she invited Mewtwo to blink into the passenger’s seat to admire the countryside. In the back of the van, Char was as terse and silent as the grave, trying to rest while she still could. Occasionally, she brushed her scarred fingers over the occupied pokeballs on her belt, and swallowed her growing anxiety.

They gave Viridian City itself a wide berth; that was Rocket territory, constantly at odds with the League-owned Indigo Plateau, where the Victory Road gauntlet was maintained. The forest was protected land, and the free colony there was familiar to Char. She met Sabrina and Daphne there in the first place, long ago.

Mewtwo could feel the buzz of a powerful, chaotic web of psychic communication, just pulling up to the edge of the forest. The thick, old-growth woods towered over them and the crummy little van. The first stop. Daphne had the kitt in a sling, wearing a loose arrangement of silks weighted with metal rings. An outfit that her grandmother would approve of, from what Mewtwo gathered.

_ “You two have made it a very eventful few weeks, I must say. Best of luck.” _

With a kiss from Sabrina smudging her whiskers with the slightest bit of black lipstick, the Kadabra bid them farewell, and disappeared into the trees. The party promptly started moving again.

It was sunset when they arrived at the coast, and by then everyone was sore and tired. Sabrina had parked a ways away from the Palette Town jetty, and all they were waiting for now was the ferry.

“So, I guess this is where we part ways, huh?” Bright awkwardly noted, lugging a backpack out of the van. 

“Guess so.” Char sounded less concerned, hitching her own bag over her shoulder. Mewtwo huddled nearby in his awkward-fitting hoodie and sweatpants against the chill. It was only slightly warmer this far south, with most of the cold air coming from off the ocean.

Sabrina fished a wad of cash out of her wallet, and slipped it into Chars hand before pulling her into her arms for a parting hug. “This should be enough for the ferry and extra supplies. Stay safe out there, Jessop.”

Char grumbled something inaudible into the woolly fluff of Sabrina’s jacket collar, and Mewtwo could feel the embarrassment rise from her. After she was freed, he got his turn to be embraced as well. The psychic gave him a final, appraising look.

“You’re one of a kind, ‘Two; it can be an advantage, or it can be a curse. When you leave Rocket territory, you’re going to have to worry about the League, too.”

_ “Is the League really more dangerous than Team Rocket?” _

Char in particular laughed, as if he made a joke.

 

The ferry ride was unremarkable; the hardest part was trying to find a place to his that didn’t involve cowering under the railing, getting splashed by frigid water. Char managed to find a secluded spot among some covered cargo, and they waited out the ride. She joked about it being a practice for stowing away en route to Hoenn.

Cinnabar was a small island town, noted for its tourism and local gym, and not much else. The buildings were old-fashioned, and often elevated in case of flooding in certain parts; their lavish colors faded from age into an aesthetic Mewtwo liked. He would be mostly flying over rooftops; might as well enjoy the view.

Char focused on his presence while on the ground. “Don’t wander off, now. I’m going to find a ship, keep an eye out for any suspicious sorts, alright?”

_ “Of course,” _ Mewtwo replied distractedly, flying somewhat off course anyways. He admired the tight and eclectic layout of a city built before rigid road plans, lit up by streetlamps and lit windows. The winding, narrow alleyways were still decorated with green from city-installed planters, and wild, urban pokemon snuck around in the peripheral of human society.

Inevitably, he started to feel a bit lost. As long as he could feel Char’s presence in the distance, he wasn’t too concerned. Independence could mean freedom to be distracted.

Mewtwo never really had a chance to enjoy Kanto, so he didn’t feel like he was going to miss it. Miss out on exploring, perhaps, but he certainly didn’t want to  _ live _ here. Then again, he wasn’t sure what it was like to live anywhere. Was that the next step? Just…  _ living? _ Putting it that way made it sound weirdly alien to him, in a way he wasn’t going to be able to describe any time soon. Still following Char’s presence at a relaxed pace, Mewtwo gracefully flew from rooftop to rooftop, distracted enough that he almost ignored the other figure doing the same thing. 

A jolt of fear gripped him when a flash of yellow caught his eye, and he recognized an Alakazam a few roofs away. A large and particularly humanoid one.

He could have bolted right then, but… no, no he knew  _ exactly _ what Nico would be here for.

The Kazam didn’t seem to notice the other clone at all until a psychic blast nearly knocked him out of the air. He managed to stop just short of crashing into a brick wall, gawking at the psychic barreling through the air, straight for him.

_ “...Shit.” _ Nico blinked out of the way, and another blast left a crumbling hole in the wall, instead.

**_“You!”_ ** Mewtwo declared, eyes burning with fury, psy energy rippling the air around him dangerously. He summoned the erratic power at his disposal to fling at the other clone wildly.

_ “Wait!” _ Nico gritted his teeth as he tried to out-fly the psybolts being hurled at him.  _ “Believe it or not, I’m not here for you!” _

Mewtwo closed a glowing fist, and Nico was snatched out of the air.  _ “I’m not running anymore. If Giovanni sent you after us, you’re going back to him in a box!” _

Nico glared back defiantly.  _ “I don’t think you have the guts.” _

_ “No, but I know Char would like to have some words with you.” _

Now  _ that _ was a threat. Fear flashed through the Alakazam’s eyes, and he struggled against the psychic hold.  _ “Wait! Wait, wait, wait- I’m not even here on Rocket business, dammit, I didn’t even know you would  _ **_be_ ** _ here!” _

_ “ _ **_Liar!_ ** _ Where are the others?!” _

The breath was slowly being squeezed out of Nico, despite trying to counter the force with all his psychic might.  _ “I came alone!” _

Mewtwo narrowed his eyes. The pressure crushing Nico let up just enough to feel less suffocating.  _ “Why, then?” _

_ “You wouldn’t believe me if I told you.” _ Nico managed a pained chuckle. He was dropped to the ground, and landed the five or so feet onto the roof with a grunt.

Mewtwo hovered around him as he picked himself up off the ground, still giving him a severe glare. _ “Give me one good reason why I should let you go in the first place.” _

Dusting himself off, the slightly haggard Alakazam still gave the clone a petulant glower, even if he looked worse for wear.  _ “There is something going on that is beyond our sibling rivalry. I bet you had a fairly easy time running away from Rocket so far, huh? That’s because Giovanni has even worse plans in store than capturing a half-baked mutant like you.” _

Mewtwo flicked his hand, and an invisible force smacked Nico across the face. The Kazam took it with a grunt, and staggered backwards.  _ “Okay, maybe I deserve that.” _

_ “So you’re working against Giovanni now?” _ Mewtwo narrowed his eyes suspiciously.  _ “Do you really expect me to believe that?” _

_ “More or less,” _ Nico bowed his head towards the other clone.  _ “You could say it’s for his own good. I’m sure you’re well aware of the attempts to make an improved version of your ill-begotten species, yes?” _

He smirked at how Mewtwo’s ears drew back and his eyes went wide with sudden horror.  _ “I thought so. I have reason to believe that he’s trying very hard to make it… or find it, perhaps. I don’t want this to happen, and I know neither do you.” _

He watched Mewtwo seem to mull over his words, distrust still clear in his eyes.  _ “Still trying to pick off competition, huh?” _

_ “I have  _ **_some_ ** _ moral fiber when it comes to preventing an apocalypse scenario, you know.”  _ Nico rolled his eyes. “ _ Besides… it’s not worth it. All of this backstabbing and bridge burning, and for what? I mean nothing to him. The idea that serving him gives me purpose has been all in my head.” _

Mewtwo looked almost surprised, as he tried to keep up his stony glare. Nico managed a sardonic laugh, running a hand through his tattered, over-plucked whiskers.

_ “You think I  _ **_enjoy_ ** _ working for him? Everything I do has been out of fear. I’m a coward, and I knew at any point he could have taken out the only person who really cared for me. I thought I had no choice.” _

He sighed, and gathered his composure. Mewtwo lowered himself onto the shingles of the roof.  _ “So, what are you planning to do about this?” _

_ “I don’t know, but I have a hunch of where I need to go.” _ Nico looked off toward the horizon, where the buildings gave way to forest.  _ “You can tag along if you like, if only because I’ll probably need an overpowered mutant to fight another overpowered mutant.” _

Mewtwo took a half-step backwards. “ _ You really think there’s already another clone out there?” _

Nico shrugged. _ “They’re certainly talking about it like it is. C’mon, then.” _

As the Alakazam took to the air again, Mewtwo hesitated. _ “Wait, I should get Char-” _

_ “Don’t bring her into this,” _ Nico quickly interjected.  _ “Her presence tends to complicate things like this; I’m sure you can gather as to why. Besides, you’re a big boy now with that device off your head, aren’t you?” _

Mewtwo self-consciously touched the bandages covering healing scars on the back of his head.  _ “Yeah, no thanks to  _ **_you_ ** _ , asshole.” _

* * *

Mewtwo trusted the Kazam as far as he could throw him (though, admittedly, he could probably fling him across the island now if he so wanted), but there was something dire in how Nico spoke of his mission. He was purposefully vague; only telling him that they were going to an abandoned lab at the edge of town to destroy any remaining data.

It didn’t look very much like a lab. The boarded up, once-regal manor was surrounded by a chain-link fence, its yard overgrown and infested with local pests. Nico had no issue in breaking in through the back door. He seemed almost familiar with its layout.

_ “Have you been here before?” _ Mewtwo asked cautiously, looking around the moldering, furniture-bare interior.

_ “As a youth, yes.” _ Nico admitted. There was a glimmer of recognition in his eyes, taking in how far into disrepair the manor had fallen into.  _ “You’re looking at the first floor of the facility that engineered the Bucephalus project. This is where the head scientist used to live. We will be heading to the basement.” _

He pointed the other clone towards a set of basement stairs, where a metal door looked out of place with its dusty keypad lock. Nico attempted to put in a passcode, but the system was inert. The Alakazam sighed. 

Taking a step back, he gave the air in front of the door a mighty psychic shove. The force blew it off its hinges, and made the rest of the house tremble in protest.

The basement was pitch black. Nico snapped his fingers, and a point of light appeared in his hand, to Mewtwo’s surprise. The Alakazam raised an eyebrow at the puzzled look.  _ “What, you don’t know Flash?” _

Mewtwo hastily attempted to recreate the move, failing to snap his fingers properly a few times before he could create a weak, wavering spark. He gave Nico a sheepish smile, red-faced.

_ “Yeah, um, my powers are… a little unreliable right now.” _

At least now, they could see the extent of the ruin the lab had fallen into. White and once-sterile panelling on the walls and ceiling was falling off over time, revealing the guts of the building in open wounds. Everything was empty, cold, and echoed the slightest sound. Nico strode in with purpose, leading Mewtwo down a long hallway.

The facility was far larger than Mewtwo expected, with many of the doors opening to ransacked rooms littered with garbage.  _ “Have people been in here since it shut down?” _

_ “Undoubtedly.” _ Nico gave a room lined with tattered, child-sized hammocks the briefest, mournful glance.  _ “From what information I gathered, the first team for the Originator Project took this place over. It was shortly after I was sent over to Giovanni… I was the last Kadabra they had left.” _

_ “I was made on an island,” _ Mewtwo’s posture was hunched like a stalking cat as he cautiously looked into abandoned rooms. _ “Were they working on another clone in here?” _

_ “Your origins are purposefully obfuscated,” _ Nico stopped at a reinforced double door, and paused.  _ “You know the team that made you was actually team ‘B’, right? Team ‘A’ didn’t last very long. The head scientist had a mental breakdown, and almost all of the scientists that didn’t join the New Island team are unaccounted for.” _

Mewtwo seemed disturbed at the reveal, giving Nico an incredulous look.  _ “What? Why?” _

Nico took a deep, focusing breath, and concentrated. With another shove, he attempted to break open the door; resulting in it only being bent slightly concave instead. The Alakazam grumbled with frustration when Mewtwo seemed to exert little effort into doing what he could not. Stepping into the room, Mewtwo shot the other clone a smug little smirk. Nico bared his teeth.

This particular lab room was apparently intended for research, owing to the disheveled desks and papers strewn everywhere. Nico sighed, and tried picking a few off the floor to examine. Mewtwo snooped around, checking the filing cabinets. _ “What exactly are we looking for?” _

_ “The truth behind your creation’s troubled beginning.” _ Nico held a piece of paper up to his light, found it unhelpful, and let it flutter back down to the ground.  _ “Considering Dr. Fuji’s breakdown, and whatever the hell Giovanni’s going through, I have a hunch that maybe they weren’t the only ones affected. Your birth may have been a purposeful sabotage.” _

_ “Sabotage?” _

_ “I believe that you weren’t meant to be born. Not in the usual, hateful sense, of course; I think your existence was a means to prevent a far worse event taking place.” _ Nico paused, seemingly considering his next move. He gave Mewtwo a dire look. _ “I am about to tell you something very, very stupid.” _

Mewtwo looked profoundly confused.  _ “O-okay? What is it?” _

_ “Giovanni claims he escaped an alternate universe where a different Mewtwo caused massive devastation in his name. Now, he seeks to obtain the clone he once had to start his conquest anew.” _

He took a breath during a beat of awkward silence. Mewtwo blinked, speechless as he attempted to process the reveal. The clone tilted his head perplexedly.  _ “Wait, wait, you lost me somewhere in the middle of that. What do you mean an alternate universe?” _

_ “Hell if I know!” _ Nico threw up his hands in exasperation, storming out of the room to continue his search. _ “I have no idea what’s going on anymore, all I know is that if there’s any data you didn’t destroy in your little tantrum on the island, it’s going to be here. I’m destroying it before it falls into the wrong hands.” _

Mewtwo jogged to keep up with his purposeful stride.  _ “So Giovanni came from another universe?” _

_ “He  _ **_thinks_ ** _ he did,” _ Nico corrected.  _ “This could all be a mass hallucination, for all I know. If there was an apocalyptic event from another universe, I suppose it only makes sense for the gods to try and take measures to prevent it. I dunno. I’m fucking tired.” _

Mewtwo gave him a concerned look, and said nothing.

The next room they came upon was large; a proper genetics lab, with equipment still on the table as if it had been abandoned in a hurry. Broken glass tubes all over the floor made both psychics hover to avoid stepping in it.

Mewtwo poked around as Nico did more thorough searching.  _ “So, what do you think happened here, with the rest of the ‘A’ team?” _

_ “From the looks of it, they went back to working with what they had left.” _ Nico directed his light towards a wall. It was covered in a complicated formula; an addition that the white board next to it couldn’t fit alone.

Trash was everywhere; the place looked more like a squatter’s abode than a laboratory. Mewtwo spotted a desk lamp on the floor next to a mattress with a nest of notebooks and clothes, and followed the wire to a power strip that was host to a mess of extension cords and power splitters leading to other rooms. Eventually, he followed the right wire straight to a generator.

While squinting at more indecipherable notes, Nico flinched from the sound of an engine starting. A few lights placed around the lab clicked on.  _ “... Huh. Interesting that they still endeavored to work in these conditions. Then again, I suppose they weren’t in the best mental state.” _

Only a few of the computers were hooked up to the generator, their screens lighting up as they rebooted. Mewtwo peered at one that still had a text document up.

_ “‘We’re trying one more time to get access to sector D back. Oshiro still has it barricaded, and he may need to be subdued. We need those samples back.’” _

Mewtwo nervously turned to Nico.  _ “That’s the last entry.” _

_ “I know where that is. Sector D was a storage sub-basement when I was here.” _ Nico turned to leave, and gestured to Mewtwo to follow.

The few lights in the hall that hadn’t burnt out over the years provided dim, flickering light over the ruined lab. Garbage mixed with documents and discarded equipment with equal measure. As they explored deeper, Mewtwo’s anxiety mixed with his inherent fear of the memories these kinds of places evoked in him.

_ “S-so, um,” _ Mewtwo tried to break the eerie silence, _ “she doesn’t like mentioning it, but from what I gathered, Char tried to rescue you from Giovanni before?” _

Nico instantly bristled, refusing to look at the other clone.  _ “It was a long time ago. We didn’t cover our tracks as well as we should, and lead them right to us. When we were recaptured, I swore fealty to Giovanni to let Charlotte live.” _

_ “And that worked?” _

_ “After he had Char prove her own obedience, yes.” _ Nico growled quietly to himself, remembering what happened with uncomfortable clarity.  _ “He gave her a whip and had her strike me until he was satisfied.” _

A chill passed between them. Mewtwo swallowed around a lump in his throat as he tried to also stare straight ahead. Nico gave him a bitter glance.  _ “You’re lucky, you know. She could tell you that you were more than a tool for him, and you believed it. I had to convince myself of it, long after it was too late.” _

Mewtwo looked earnestly up at him, sympathy clear in his eyes.  _ “You deserved to be freed too.” _

A low growl rumbled from the Alakazam’s throat, and Nico picked up the pace a little.  _ “Let’s just get this over with. When all this is done, I am content with our paths never crossing again.” _

Nico stayed a couple paces in front of Mewtwo from then on, clearly knowing where to go. An elevator towards the very end of the hallway had its doors wedged open with a bent, empty filing cabinet. The actual cabin was somewhere at the bottom, and its absence left a dark and forboding hole. The Kazam peered into the darkness.

_ “You know, the sub-basement always gave me the creeps. Probably the only place I didn't deliberately break into as a kid.” _

Without a second thought, Nico floated down. After a moment of nervous hesitation, Mewtwo followed; if only to not be left alone in this place.

True to the document on the computer, there was a barricade of furniture in front of the storage room. Or at least, there was; most of it had been painstakingly pushed away, allowing enough of a gap for the past intruders to squeeze through. Nico went ahead and pushed the rest of it away, and Mewtwo saw mild surprise dawn on him before he could see the reason.

_ “Ah… I guess they didn’t get those samples back after all.” _

The several corpses were what first drew the eye, when looking in. The flickering overhead light that still reached the generator cast them in a sickly, greenish halogen glow. They must have been years old; basically skeletons in moldering labcoats, with the blood long since shed becoming a dark, smeared stain around them. The signs of a violent and deadly fight were evident.

Carefully floating in, Nico took note of several incubation chambers, all smashed in. Mewtwo’s blood curdled when he saw the broken, empty tubes. _ “So I guess they didn’t get far enough to make it, after all… Does this mean we’re safe?” _

There was a single computer terminal left undamaged, becoming an eerie beacon in the dim light. Nico leaned in to read the last words of someone whose blood stained the keyboard.

_ ‘It’s over now. It will not happen again.’ _

Mewtwo could see a trail of blood where the author of the message managed to get to the terminal before stumbling off, seemingly straight into the wall. The stain cut off at the bottom edge in an unnatural way.

Nico didn’t seem to notice, preoccupied with trying to search for any scrap of their doomed project. He was telekinetically upending desk drawers when he heard a jarring metal screech behind him. Mewtwo had a psychic hold on a wall panel, and was trying to wrench it open.

_ “The hell are you doing?” _

_ “They’re behind here!” _ Mewtwo declared, and pried the panelling loose. A sizable crevice in the earth was behind the wall; a secret, unlit passage.

The two clones looked inside, as a puff of cold, stagnant air and stirred-up dust hit their faces.

_ “You first,” _ Mewtwo mumbled.

_ “Excuse me?” _ Nico huffed in offense.  _ “You’re the one who found it.” _

_ “Yeah, but it’s  _ **_your_ ** _ mission!” _

_ “Oh, don’t be a baby!” _ Nico grabbed Mewtwo by the shoulder and bodily pushed the smaller clone in front of him.

In the pitch blackness, they were forced to psychically illuminate their surroundings again, the light seemingly losing itself in the darkness. Mewtwo followed footsteps and dark blood droplets in the dirt, left undisturbed for years. They didn’t even see the end of the tunnel until a flash of their lights reflected off of something; old, dusty glasses falling off of a skull.

No longer in the once-sterile lab, the final scientist’s corpse was covered in a thick layer of dust. Nico bent down to wipe filth off of the name tag still pinned to the lab coat. Dr. Oshiro. The Alakazam shook his head.

_ “I suppose it really is over.” _

Mewtwo wasn’t looking at the corpse. Instead, he stared straight at the wall the skeleton was propped up next to. His mouth was agape, eyes fixed while he tried to blindly catch Nico’s attention. The Alakazam paused, staring at what he found with mounting horror.

_ “What the fuck is that?” _

The tunnel had terminated in a flat wall, and someone had carved an intricate series of scenes into it in a circular pattern. In the middle, plain as day, a stylized representation of an alien, humanoid creature was pictured in opposition to the unmistakable depiction of Mew. No,  _ Myuu _ ; the way the Kazam preferred to represent it. The carvings encircling it suddenly made a lot of sense to Nico in particular.

_ “Is this a goddamn Kazam engraving?  _ **_Here?!_ ** _ ” _

_ “I’m a little more concerned that  _ **_I’m_ ** _ in it,” _ Mewtwo hovered closer to the uncanny depiction. He narrowed his eyes at the shorter face and larger eyes it sported.  _ “Or… is this not me?” _

_ “‘...And so it may come to pass that an Adversary to Arceus will lay waste to his kingdom.’” _ Nico knew the words; hell, he heard at least ten different versions of it even before Fuji spoke the term. He thought it was a metaphor.

In stunned silence, they took in the sheer detail put into the mural. The scenes that circled Myuu and the Adversary depicted small, stylized figures of the tall, robust Kazam of ancient times, interacting with the first humans. Mewtwo looked back at the Alakazam for some sort of explanation. _ “Do you know what these engravings mean?” _

_ “I… yes, for the most part,” _ Nico admitted, and pointed to the top of the mural.  _ “That long dragon’s head there? That would be Dialga; they would use the symbol to mark the equivalent of midday on their sundials. These carvings here, turning clockwise? These are all events they’ve documented before. Kazam didn’t use the human concept of words, they conveyed everything through imagery.” _

_ “So it's… the history leading up to this clone being made, right?” _ Mewtwo traced the circle in the air. He stopped towards the bottom, where the unmistakable symbol of a pokeball caught his eye.  _ “This can’t be too old then, right? Because some of these are really… recent.” _

At the forty-five minute mark of the ‘clock’, Mewtwo shivered when he saw a figure with the supposed Adversary address several hooded men. Beyond that, a battle scene of the Mew clone and several Legendaries was depicted in that disarmingly simple, subdued style.

Nico’s brow knitted in concern.  _ “Well, let me put it this way: the Kazam always made their historical carvings in a straight line. The implication of a circle could mean some sort of… cyclical nature to all of this.” _

Mewtwo tilted his head at him.  _ “I thought you said this clone came from another universe?” _

_ “I don’t… I don’t know.” _ Nico sunk to the ground, to the point that he simply slumped on the bare floor, opposite of the corpse. After a moment of staring uneasily at the carving of the Adversary he wasn’t, Mewtwo joined him. The air was still, silent, and smelt of dust.

_ “I should get back to Charlotte…” _ Mewtwo mumbled half-heartedly. His head was spinning. How was he going to explain this to her?

_ “You should,” _ Nico stared distantly at the skeleton in front of them.  _ “She can get quite clingy.” _

_ “I should be on a boat to Hoenn by now, not having another existential crisis.” _

_ “Oh, she’s taking you to Hoenn?” _ Nico glanced at the clone, and scoffed when Mewtwo looked suddenly fearful.  _ “Relax, I have no reason to interrupt your little happily-ever-after. Besides… I had my chance. I fucked it up.” _

_ “N-no,” _ Mewtwo uneasily got to his feet, ears perked up as though he sensed something distantly.  _ “Something’s wrong.” _

Nico tensed when he could feel it coming into the peripheral of his own psychic perception. People.  _ Many _ people.  _ “I believe that’s our cue to leave.” _

_ “Wait, what are we going to do with-” _

_ “Leave it. What’s done is done. _ ” Nico concentrated on a location, taking the time to grab the other clone before blinking out of the basement entirely.

 

Mewtwo was used to being the one actively teleporting; being just the passenger on the instantaneous ride was a little disorienting. He closed his eyes like he was about to sneeze, and opened them when they reached the other side. His heart immediately dropped to the pit of his stomach.

The place was surrounded. Unlabeled black vans filled with Rocket grunts were still unloading, many of them bringing out psychic-countering pokemon for this occasion. It was easy to pick out Giovanni in all of this; the best dressed, most absolutely maniacal-looking man out of all of them. A more uncertain-looking man with greying hair was one of the few who also wasn’t clearly a subordinate; that, and Charlotte.

Char had to be restrained by two men, and had taken to boring holes in Giovanni’s back with her murderous glare. When she noticed the two clones hovering about twenty feet above them, her expression turned fearful, and she struggled to scream from around the gag in her mouth. Giovanni looked up at them with a smile.

“Well, well, well! I underestimated you, Nicodemus. You’re really gunning for a promotion, aren’t you?”

Mewtwo let out a strained-sounding snarl, and attempted to lunge. Nico’s psychic hold on him stopped him in his tracks.  _ “ _ **_No_ ** _ … no, it’s not worth it. He  _ **_will_ ** _ hurt her.” _

_ “You  _ **_bastard_ ** _! I knew it!” _ Mewtwo cried, snarling bestialy as he squirmed in the invisible grasp. The Alakazam concentrated on keeping him subdued.

_ “Listen, you can’t fight them all and have her come out of this intact. Let me talk to him-” _

“Nico, I’m  _ waiting! _ ” Giovanni shouted up at them impatiently, a minimized pokeball already in his hand.

With a heavy heart, Nico lowered himself and the other clone to the ground, hands up in a disarming gesture. _ “Master, it-it’s over. There’s no more of the original data left intact. The Adversary isn’t  _ **_real._ ** _ ” _

“I’ll be the judge of that.” Giovanni gave them no warning before promptly using the pokeball that used to be Nico’s.

NIco watched the betrayal in Mewtwo’s eyes fade into nothing before him, returning to the master he inadvertently brought him to. Char’s muffled screams reached a fever pitch before Giovanni gave a signal, and had her quieted with a solid blow to the head. He chuckled at the dull sound of the impact.

“God, she wouldn’t fucking shut up.  _ ‘I’ll skin you alive!’ ‘They’ll never find your body!’ _ Yeah, yeah, you’re  _ so _ threatening.”

He gave the small army of grunts a more sweeping gesture, and they immediately swarmed the house. “Alright boys, I want the whole place searched. Leave no stone unturned!”

_ “Master-”  _ Nico watched Giovanni walk right by him, following the search party.  _ “Master, there’s nothing there! I’m serious!” _

Cyrus feebly got the clone’s attention, giving Giovanni’s back a suspicious, harried look. “You’re not going to get through to him. Best not to bother with it.”

_ “Cyrus, he absolutely must not get into the lower levels of that place.” _

“You can’t stop him,” Cyrus closed his eyes, and let out a resigned sigh. “It’s over. It is the eve of the great destruction Arceus enacted, and Giovanni endeavors to finish what he started.”

* * *

Nico almost wished he was returned as well, to spare him of the sickening anxiety that came with Giovanni and his men finding every clue that he and Mewtwo unearthed just before. It led the boss, inevitably, to rappel down the broken elevator shaft with a few of his men, and find the end of the trail. Giovanni squinted at the opened hole in the wall left uncovered. A smirk spread across his face.

“ _ Nothing there _ , huh? I knew you’d probably fib.”

Nico and Cyrus were pale with fear, helpless to watch the man stride in and shine a flashlight onto the carved surface of the cryptic message. The silence was deafening as they took in the detail, and the dire implications it had.

“Hey, Cyrus?” Giovanni looked behind him, then back at the engraving. “What the fuck is this?”

Cyrus gawked at it, stumbling forward to get a closer look. “That’s… my god, don’t tell me this is-”

_ “It’s a warning.” _ Nico finished for him.

Cyrus placed his trembling hands on it, feeling the grooves in the rock as if to reassure himself that it really existed. “They knew all along? Did the gods tell them this would happen?”

Giovanni looked disturbed, and it was getting harder to hide it. “Wait, if this is another universe, how the hell were they supposed to know?”

“Maybe we were wrong.” The graying man stepped back, unable to take his eyes off of the imagery. “Dialga’s symbol, the perfect wheel… they simply rewound everything, didn’t they? They wanted to make sure none of these events would happen again. Everything pictured here led up to the Adversary.”

“Yeah, well,” Giovanni’s glare at the impression of the Adversary turned cold. He reached for a pokeball at his belt. “They didn’t do a very good job.  _ Stand back! _ ”

Cyrus staggered away from him, and Nico gave him a psychic pull out of harm’s way as Giovanni released an enormous, purple beast. The Nidoking was old and scarred, its spines clipped and its eyes devoid of light. It turned obediently to the master that pointed him towards its target.

“Nidoking! Smash it!”

All it was good for was destruction, and it did it well. Everyone braced, and shielded their eyes from the dust and debris. Nico expected a dull, solid sound of the pokemon hitting bedrock. What he heard was a hollow crack, and he watched the wall give way to another chamber, hidden away.

Giovanni laughed triumphantly, madly, and stepped over the debris through the clouds of dust without a second thought. His steps echoed in the dark.

“ _ Holy shit _ \- Nico, get in here and use Flash, I can’t see a goddamn thing!”

Nico was helpless to do anything but obey. Fear and ingrained obedience from his years underneath the man’s heel compelling him to just keep placating him; if Giovanni was happy, he would remain safe. Charlotte would remain safe. That poor idiot of a mutant that didn’t deserve to be a part of this any more than Nico did would hopefully remain safe. Nico illuminated the larger cavern easily.

The carvings of the Kazam, as stylized and simplistic as they were, could still convey more than enough horror. Cities that didn’t exist yet then were burning, courtesy of Groudon. Oceans were destroying the coast, thanks to Kyogre. Dialga, Palkia, and Arceus were at the very back of the room, their likenesses watching a simple pedestal like a hawk. If this place was a tomb, the single ball, covered in dust, was by all means the urn of a dead conqueror’s ashes.

Giovanni staggered, weak in the knees as he went right for it. With shaky, clammy, sweaty hands, he wiped away a bit of the thick coating of dust on the front of the ball. A faded red ‘M’ was still printed on it, after centuries.

His partner, still loyal. Still waiting for him.


	20. Chapter 20

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> [TW: violence, body horror, death]

Mewtwo could only weep, forced to stand in place as the horrible feeling of inhibition sunk back into his mind. Undoing all this progress, all this hope that he so foolishly let himself retain. The heavy, constricting armor kept him unable to move nor perceive the world around him. From it, they had attached a series of IVs and catheters to his person. Life support, built into the suit.

“Ideally, the suit will continue to support the asset indefinitely.” A scientist explained to Giovanni, who watched the process of fitting the armor with rapt attention. “The life support system will ensure an optimal amount of energy to keep the asset from overexerting itself, as well as keep it dependent on the suit itself. The longer it stays in the suit, the weaker and more vulnerable it will be without it.”

Giovanni chuckled darkly. “Oh, Nico, you really outdid yourself. This is  _ perfect _ . How much time does it need to calibrate?”

The scientist fiddled with the holographic screen. “Approximately an hour, sir.”

“Excellent. When it’s done, just discard the hybrid. I won't be needing it anymore.”

Giovanni still had a smile on his face as he turned to Nico. He clapped the large clone on the shoulder, and made him flinch. “How does it feel to see your  _ magnum opus _ in use?”

Nico’s ears were flat behind his head, staring in muted horror at what he had created in Giovanni’s name.  _ “It’s… overwhelming, I suppose.” _

Giovanni gave him a playful nudge. “How ‘bout a reward for your efforts then, huh? We have Jessop in the holding cells. You can have her.”

_ “...Have her?” _

“Yeah, y’know, you can just give her the ol’  _ snip-snip _ like you always do; make her forget all about that ugly little rat up there and reset her back to a time where she was still fucking you. C’mon, you know you want to... what else is that big brain of yours good for, anyways?”

Giovanni gave Nico a terrible wink. The Alakazam’s stomach turned, and he considered the man’s words before bowing his head gratefully.

_ “That’s… that’s perfect, master. Thank you for this gift.” _

* * *

Char could only sulk, forced to sit in her shitty little cot without her lover, her team, or even her fucking  _ leg _ . Still, she plotted her escape. She could hobble over to the doorway, wait for the first guy to come in with her rations, choke him out… and then be stuck on the floor with a dead man and some spilled gruel. What was she going to do, crawl her way out? Well, it wouldn’t have been the first time.

She couldn’t give up. She couldn’t  _ fail him _ . Fruitlessly, she tried to extend the pathetic reach of her own psychic abilities… and found a very different presence close in on her.

Char dully watched Nico stroll in like he fucking owned the place. He had her prosthesis and cane under one arm, and an apologetic look on his face as he nodded in greeting.

_ “Charlotte.” _

“Nicodemus.”

He took a brief, centering breath, and closed his eyes against her hateful stare.  _ “I know you’re planning on turning me into a pelt to wear as a trophy as soon as you get your hands on me. I understand. This is why I need your help.”  _

He opened a closed fist, and presented her team’s four minimized pokeballs. Char’s expression turned from one of sullen resentment, to surprise.  _ “Charlotte, you are a force of goddamn nature. All you need is your team, and I know you can take care of the rest. This is why I need you to be a distraction. I’m going to fix this.” _

Char was disconcertingly silent, her face blank. He didn’t have to read her mind to tell she was thinking of all the ways she could take her violent frustrations out on him. “What’s the catch, cuck?”

Nico rolled his eyes at the insult.  _ “For fuck’s sakes, Char. I want out of here just as much as you do.” _

He handed Char the things taken from her, and watched a glimmer of emotion return to her eyes. The hand that held her pokemon trembled, closing around them in a protective fist. She gave the Alakazam a cutting glare.

“You better get outta here before I change my mind on the pelt thing.”

Nico wasted no time backing out of the cell, hands held up as if to surrender to her. He left the door open as he left, and Char let out the tense breath she was holding. She gave her pokeballs a thoughtful look before releasing her team into the cell.

Suddenly reconstituted in a strange, alien place, all four of her boys tensed up, looking wildly around as they reoriented themselves. Yanna was quick to give Char a knowing - if not disappointed - look.

**“I assume the worst.”**

“No shit.” Char hastily slipped her leg back on, and gritted through the usual jolt of pain that came with standing up.

“Alright, boys. I dunno where we are, who we’re fightin’, or if we’ll come out of this in one piece; but that suit ain’t going to see the end of the night.”

* * *

Cyrus didn’t hesitate to agree to Nico’s last-ditch plan, but he couldn’t keep Giovanni distracted in his office forever. Hopefully, he wouldn’t need to.

The last scientist, psychically knocked out, was laid on the floor. Nico had no love for anyone under Giovanni; but, like him, they were probably forced into this as well. On the holographic monitor Mewtwo’s vital signs were erratic, panicking and upset. The Alakazam went to work on shutting down the infernal prison he made for him.

Mewtwo screamed from the pain of a sudden, unexpected change in the inhibition’s frequency. Nico winced in sympathy. The clone slumped, suspended somewhat by the armor, with its many tubes and wires connecting it to the ports on the walls. Now, Nico just needed to get him out of it by hand.

The Alakazam started to pluck out the IV lines. _ “Mewtwo, can you hear me? I’m going to get you out of here, but we  _ **_need_ ** _ to get that pokemon out of Giovanni’s hands.” _

Mewtwo’s telepathy was weak, and carried the bitterness of defeat.  _ “Where is she?” _

_ “She’s safe. She has her team, and she’s going to… do what she does best.” _

As if on cue, the sudden blaring of an alarm made both clones flinch.  _ “Aaaand there she goes. C’mon, no time to waste.” _

_ “I can’t,” _ Mewtwo mumbled miserably,  _ “I can’t do it. I can’t even use my own power right. I’m not the most powerful pokemon in the world, I’m a failure. I failed her, I failed the whole world.” _

_ “The fact that you aren’t the most powerful pokemon in the world is exactly  _ **_why_ ** _ your existence is important.” _ Nico brusquely slipped off the helmet that blinded the other clone, and looked firmly into Mewtwo’s bloodshot eyes.

_ “You are not the pure clone of a Legendary, but you are a Son of Bucephalus. Make of that what you will.” _

Mewtwo blinked blearily at him.  _ “...What the hell is a Bucephalus?” _

* * *

The sound of the fire alarm came with a flashing red light through the halls of the base, giving the scene Char was making an appropriately chaotic aesthetic. Of course, the light just made Mercury more frenzied, kicking fire up as he sped through the corridor and took down everything in his way.

The grunts and more established security for Team Rocket came at the trainer with full force, man and pokemon alike trying to subdue the deadly weapons she had at her beck and call. Char practically ignored them; walking purposefully down the hall with murder in her eyes. There would be only one man she was going to kill tonight.

Yanna had a disadvantage in the more confined space, but his sheer bulk was also practically a wall of muscle their opponents would not be able to break. Jupiter in front of him could simply shock everything indiscriminately, and he could barely feel it himself. The humans were not so lucky. The ones that got too close were swatted away like flies, knocking them into their own electrocuted pokemon. The Hariyama sighed wearily.

**“I tire of this, this** **_nonsense_ ** **.”** He looked behind him to check on the human he protected with his life.  **“Sister, when we get home, I’m retiring.”**

He was cut off by a Charmeleon trying to kick him in the gut. Yanna grabbed and threw it tail-first towards its trainer.  **“Forgive me, but I must sever myself from you once more. This is not my life.”**

“Way ahead of you, brother,” Char stepped over the bodies of the people who tried to contain her, giving the ones who weren’t out cold or dead a sound swing of her cane. “But I ain’t gonna let this son of a bitch go. He’s worse than _ the pirate  _ ever was.”

Yanna grumbled thoughtfully after giving a mighty punch, wiping out a Machoke and the grunts who were behind it.  **“If this suit is like the pirate, does that mean he may unleash something like Kyogre?”**

Char grabbed the knife of a fallen man, and stabbed another that tried to lunge at her. “Well, we stopped Kyogre before, didn’t we?”

**“** **_The plant_ ** **stopped it.”** Yanna reminded her, **“unless you plan to have the cat open another portal?”**

“Eh, the guy’s full of surprises.” Char smirked. Her back turned, she was almost struck by the desperate swing of an injured grunt weilding a nightstick. She only turned around when the man froze in place, his eyes going blank.

With clear struggle from the grunt himself, the Gengar possessing him forced him to hit himself in the head several times, only stopping to crumble limply to the floor. The ghost rose out of the bloodied body and cackled.

Char chuckled fondly. “Aw, who’s a good boy?”

* * *

Mewtwo’s head still ached from having to exert the psychic will to fly, but he endeavored to follow the Alakazam. Nico seemed to know where he was going, and the Rocket members trying to stop him weren’t getting in the way. Mewtwo frowned at the way he so nonchalantly motioned with his hands, and bade the humans to fall unconscious on the floor.

_ “How can you even do that with a straight face? Those guys were like, your coworkers, right?” _

_ “They also called me an ‘it’, didn’t care if I heard the demeaning things they said or thought about me, and made sure I never forgot ‘my place’.” _ Nico shot a disgruntled glare towards the other clone.  _ “What, do you want me to save some for you?” _

Mewtwo groaned, and tried not to look at the bodies he passed.  _ “Asshole.” _

He didn’t have a clue where they were, but it seemed like less of a bunker, and more of an office building. As they ascended from the fortified basement levels he was held in, Mewtwo was surprised to see hardwood floors, wide windows and… League branding?

The clone looked worriedly at a row of training trophies as they passed.  _ “Wait, where are we?” _

_ “The front for Giovanni’s operations, _ ” Nico explained casually,  _ “The gym he’s been rigging the fights of for decades.” _

Grunts were less frequently encountered on this level, thankfully, and Mewtwo could see why. Some of them were outside the windows, running away. He felt somewhat relieved that they had sense enough to escape.  _ “I guess they aren’t all that loyal after all.” _

_ “Not ‘fighting a Legendary’ loyal, at least.” _

Mewtwo’s ears flicked back.  _ “I don’t  _ **_feel_ ** _ Legendary.” _

Several Rocket subordinates stopped them at a broad staircase, pokemon at the ready. They had dark types; the Houndoom and Mightyena that had been bred to be unleashed on Kazam in the first place. The two clones halted in their tracks.

“End of the line, boys.”

Behind the blockade, a figure at the top of the stairs made a slow and leisurely descent. Giovanni had the ancient Master Ball in his hand, and a smug grin on his face. He held the Adversary like a grenade, and his thumb on the button was the pin.

“God, look at the two of you. You really think you can stop me? You’re both flawed, defunct projects. This timeline is even more of a failure than the last one.”

He looked up as the peal of the fire alarm began anew, making the hounds whine and bark in annoyance. The sprinklers came on, to everyone’s distaste. Giovanni grumbled as he subconsciously shielded himself with his free hand.

“Dammit, what the hell’s going on now?”

“Jessop got out, sir.” A grunt timidly mentioned.

“For fuck’s sakes!” Giovanni cursed, “ _ Get her!  _ Get her out of the fucking way now!”

**_“No!”_ **

Mewtwo clenched his fists, gritting his teeth through the pain as the shockwave he summoned knocked away both human and pokemon alike. The hounds and their masters skidded against the hardwood floors, and scrambled to get their footing in order to flee. Giovanni had fallen backwards on the stairs, taking great pains to carefully keep the Masterball held out of harm’s reach. Disaster, at least slightly averted.

_ “I’m tired of being afraid of you. You’re just a man!”  _ The clone swept his arms outward, and the windows blew out around them.  _ “You’re flesh and blood! You’re mortal! If-if I’m some kind of god, why am I letting you have power over me!?” _

With a grabbing motion, he stopped Giovanni in the middle of getting to his feet, and yanked him into the air. The man looked terrified for all of a moment, struggling in vain before having a stark realization.

“You’re not a god, but this one is.”

All he had to do was slacken his grip, his thumb lifting off the dust-covered button of the Master Ball. Mewtwo’s heart skipped a sickening beat, and the room went white.

* * *

Finally, after climbing over a veritable sea of what had to be three quarters of Giovanni’s own damn army, Char and her team finally made it to the ground level. Smoke billowed out of the door to the lower levels behind them, and it quickly tripped the sprinklers. Char cooed in sympathy as Mercury in particular whined over getting wet.

As they moved forward, Char recognized the League logos and overall familiar structure of the upper hideout. “Well I guess we’re in Viridian, huh? Fuck.”

**“We haven’t seen the cat or the Kazam,”** Yanna noted,  **“I thought you said they were escaping too?”**

Char huffed with a worried sigh. “Well, I hope so. I don’t doubt Nico’s finally got the balls to stand up to Gio, that’s been a long time comin’, but ‘Two? He might just fuckin’... I dunno. Beg us  _ not _ to kill the bitch.”

**“When you kill him, should your lover have to witness your savagery?”**

Char’s expression hardened, her heart growing heavy. “God, I hope not-  _ Ow!” _

She clutched her head from a sudden spike of pain, nearly crumpling to the ground before Yanna could catch her. She broke out in a sweat, feeling the effects of psychic exertion she wasn’t actually experiencing.

“Aw, son of a bitch -  _ ‘Two!” _

The environmental effects of Mewtwo’s outburst followed not fair behind her empathy pain. The windows of the building cracked, and League plaques on the wall tumbled to the ground. Char broke into a pained jog, her goal set.

Then, gravity itself seemed to give out.

The feeling of being psychically pulled into the air was disorienting, and nauseating. The building creaked dangerously; almost rending itself from its foundation. Like a tornado, everything was being tossed haphazardly around, and Char could only just return the more fragile of her pokemon in time for the walls and ceiling to buckle, and give way.

* * *

Nico only just started to pick himself back up from Mewtwo knocking him on his ass, when a new, even worse surge of energy washed over him. No,  _ around _ him; over a psychic barrier was being just barely maintained. Mewtwo tried to stand his ground against the destructive force that threatened to sweep him away. His nose dripped with a thin trail of blood.

_ “Dammit Nico, help me!” _

The Alakazam grabbed his hand promptly, relying on contact to quickly access a connection that would aid him in keeping the forcefield up. Together, it was only just enough to keep them grounded. Like a hurricane, who or  _ what _ ever was inside the long-forgotten pokeball had created a whirlwind of chaos and debris. Mewtwo could just barely see it through the rubble, a glowing beacon of staggering energy.

_ “What are we even going to do?” _

_ “Wait for Arceus to get us out of this mess? I don’t fucking know!” _

Mewtwo looked up at the figure, several stories in the air. It was curled into itself, clutching its head as if in pain. He could barely see the details of it; its eyes shut tight and its face a mask of misery and despair. His heart sank.

In a rash decision, Mewtwo let go of Nico’s hand, and braced himself to fly through the storm.

_ “Hold on. I know what to do.” _

With the last bit of his wavering psychic strength, the clone endeavored to get closer to the monster that he hated and feared with equal measure. The specter of his inadequacy, the proof that everything he was made for amounted to nothing more than a patchwork failure. The true clone. The pure clone. His Adversary.

The closer he got, the more he had to push against the concussive power pouring off of the other clone. He struggled to keep his eyes open, squinting against pressure that felt like it could turn them into jelly. Feebly, he tried to contact it.

_ “Hey!” _

Mewtwo only barely dodged a large chunk of drywall that zipped past him, using it to launch off of for an extra burst of speed.  _ “Hey! Can you hear me?” _

The Adversary, floating in a rigid fetal position, stirred and shuddered.

_ “NO! I WON’T DO IT AGAIN!” _

A new wave of force nearly knocked Mewtwo out of the air.

_ “EVERYTHING IS GONE! THEY’RE DESTROYING EVERYTHING AND IT’S MY FAULT!” _

Beneath the booming, distorted telepathy, Mewtwo heard the clone sob aloud.

_ “PLEASE… THERE’S NOTHING LEFT… EVERYTHING IS BURNING...” _

_ “Nothing’s been destroyed!”  _ Mewtwo countered, trying to speak over the roar of the storm.  _ “It’s all okay now, look! Everything’s still here; they didn’t destroy it, they saved it!” _

He was so close now he could almost grab them. _ “Please, you have to  _ **_listen!_ ** _ They reversed everything you did! They gave you a second chance! You’re free now!” _

The Adversary uncurled themself, opening eyes that glowed with all the intensity of a sun. They stared blankly at him, through him.

_ “I will never be free. It’s too late.” _

**_“No it isn’t!!”_ **

With a final lunge, Mewtwo closed the gap between them, and embraced them. 

The breath caught in the Adversary’s throat. Mewtwo could feel their hammering heart, their pumping lungs, the warmth and life in their skin. His fingers brushed over a metal device fastened to their spine. A tangle of wires ran up their neck cord and dangled limply around a metal band, once stuck against their skull. They were a living creature, like him; not a specter, or a legend. Or a metaphor. They existed, like him, for better or worse: a clone meant to be nothing more than a weapon. Mewtwo was no weapon. He would rebel against the purpose humanity instilled in him until his dying breath.

_ “Please… you’re like me, and I don’t want to hurt you.” _

The Adversary’s blank eyes gained a glimmer of recognition, their brow knitting minutely with confusion.  _ “You’re like me?” _

_ “Yes!” _ Mewtwo was grinning, and crying, not even sure what emotion he was experiencing. Whatever it was, it was intense. Gradually, the other clone brought their limp arms to wrap around him in turn.

The Adversary took in his thin fur, and the similarly bifurcated spinal cord looping above his neck. The blunt pads of their fingers carefully traced the exposed stitches still in the back of Mewtwo’s head, almost reverently.

_ “I don’t understand?” _

_ “It’s okay,”  _ Mewtwo pulled away enough to face them,  _ “I don’t either. I don’t know what’s going on most of the time, actually.” _

The life was returning to the large eyes of the other clone, the furious light behind them fading into a more natural color. Around them, the storm died down, and pieces of the demolished gym came tumbling back down.

The night sky above them was clear and full of stars, with the slightest hint of the light of dawn starting to bloom from the horizon. At their height, they could see the city of Viridian, decorated with strips of lit but mostly-empty streets. The Adversary marveled at the peacefulness of the world around them.

Mewtwo hiccupped from a sob, and gratefully went back to nuzzling against the hairless shoulder of his counterpart.  _ “You’re free now, okay? You deserve to be free. You deserve to have a life, too.” _

A deep and ragged breath escaped their lungs beneath his hands. Full of relief; the same kind of relief he felt before, way back in the woods. Dawn was breaking, the air was crisp and cool and Char held him tightly, securely. He couldn’t do even a fraction of what she did for him then, but he was trying.

Sounds from below them made both of them jolt back into reality. Mewtwo looked down to see survivors beginning to climb out of the rubble of the gym. He quickly disengaged from the other clone.

_ “Char!!” _

He didn’t even think; he just swan dived straight towards the source of her familiar presence. To his horror, it was underneath a pile of rubble. A pile of rubble that, thankfully, was shaking with the effort to not collapse in on itself. Mewtwo could hear the low and resonating drone of several flavors of Hariyama swear words.

_ “Hold on, I got you!” _ With a mental shove, he freed them of just enough concrete and drywall for Yanna to burst free with a roar, bruised and panting. He was bent over a dust-covered Char, who struggled to get to her feet.

“Fuuuck,” She whined, trying to hold herself up with her cane. Mewtwo wasted no time in giving her a grateful squeeze, knocking the wind out of her.

Char’s sigh of relief could have rivaled the power and magnitude of the Adversary’s. She held him with just as much zeal. “Oh, honey. You made such a mess.”

Mewtwo gave her a joyful smile that surprised her.  _ “It wasn’t me, actually! It was-” _

He looked up to the sky, and saw that the Adversary was gone.  _ “... Oh.” _

“Man, you don’t have to blame it on Nico. He ain’t that powerful.” Char looked around them at the abject destruction, and whistled. “ _ Damn. _ Hey, where is he, anyways?”

She cupped her hands over her mouth to shout.  _ “‘Ey, Nico! You dead?” _

There was no response. Mewtwo’s heart began to sink again, when he heard strained, overtaxed telepathy.

_ “I would really like to not be, actually! Maybe you could lend me a hand? ...Please?” _

Mewtwo centered in on the pile it came from, and set to work trying to shift rubble out of the way. Underneath a mass of psychically bent rebar, Nico looked supremely uncomfortable, but alive. The Alakazam looked around the wreckage in confusion as he slowly stood up.

_ “So… did you kill it?” _

_ “Huh?”  _ Mewtwo tilted his head in confusion, before it dawned on him.  _ “Oh! Oh, heavens no! It’s more like we, uh, hugged it out? They were just… upset and confused. But it’s okay now, I don’t know where they are now, but they're free.” _

Nico gawked at him for a moment, then shook his head, a hand already going back to his whiskers.  _ “God, why am I not surprised?” _

Char and Yanna gave the two clones puzzled looks, when the sound of crumbling rubble made them perk up.

From underneath the wreckage, a scratched up Rhydon broke through it, and stumbled forward before collapsing in exhaustion. The light of reconstitution absorbed them back into a ball held by a coughing, debris-covered man. Giovanni was alive, but limping.

“You, you fuckin,” He paused to cough and hack up the dust in his lungs, staggering. “You fuckin’  _ idiot! Mewtwo! _ ”

Mewtwo flinched from his name being barked. Char picked up a chunk of concrete the size of a softball, and trudged towards the man with horrible purpose. At least, she would have; Yanna only had to pinch the hem of her jacket to stop her in her tracks.

**“No.”**

_ “Yes!” _ Char snarled back.

_ “C’mon, Charlotte,”  _ Nico sighed,  _ “Let’s just turn him over to the Jennies. Don’t you have enough blood on your hands?” _

“Nope!”

**“You are better than this.”**

“No I’m  _ not!” _ Char struggled to free herself of her jacket, and resumed the death march without missing a beat. Giovanni gave her a terrified look, and staggered backwards.

“Oh  _ no _ you don’t,” Giovanni’s eyes darted around before settling on something that made them light up with glee. He pointed urgently at the woman who was closing in on him. “Yes! Mewtwo! Mewtwo, kill her!  _ Kill her now!” _

Confused, Mewtwo feebly pointed to himself, only for a shadow to pass over him.

Everyone stopped and stared at the Adversary, all six and a half feet of them, gently landing on the ground. Their stare into the man’s eyes was even more hateful than Mewtwo had ever seen Char at her worst moments, their breathing turning heavy and erratic. Their posture lowered like a stalking cat, and they approached slowly. Like a hunter.

_ “You. I bit you, so you pulled my teeth out.” _

They took a single step forward.

_ “I scratched you, so you cut the ends of my fingers off.” _

Another step. Giovanni took a careful step backwards from them.

_ “I asked for clothes, I asked for a name, I asked to no longer be called an ‘it’... so you pumped so many substances in my veins that I could no longer speak.” _

There was an immense, dreadful feeling in the air. Even Char seemed to have given up her own vendetta, giving the clone a wide berth as they stalked slowly and deliberately towards their former master.

_ “You are just a man. How have you hurt me so?” _

They were close enough that Giovanni fell backwards and resorted to fruitlessly scramble away from them. The Adversary loomed over him, Their eyes wide and staring disconcertingly at him.

_ “I will take you apart, atom by atom, until there is nothing left to give back to the earth.” _

Mewtwo couldn’t watch, resigning himself to covering his eyes.

The screams were deafening, seemingly unending. Char watched with wide and awestruck eyes as the clone concentrated their terrible power in a way that was ultimately invisible. Giovanni jerked on the ground, seizing with pain, until a few sickening cracks made his body go limp. He was still alive, and the sounds of agony continued.

Nico grimly watched the ultimate fate of his ‘master’, and took in every detail he could. Filing it away in the depth of his memory; a clear and perfect scene of revenge he wasn’t even jealous of not getting. This way was better; this was  _ poetic _ . Beautiful, perhaps, to someone like Char. Fascinating, to him, as someone who never thought he would live to see the man get his just desserts.

When Giovanni was sufficiently dead, the Adversary still wasn’t over; they made a promise, and they were going to keep it. They splayed their scarred fingers, and squeezed. An awful, burning smell came from the body, and the clothes began to disintegrate. Then the skin, then the muscles and organs, then the bones… they were very thorough. By the time the deed was done, there really was nothing left.

The Adversary let out the breath they were holding, shoulders sagging. They looked up at the clear sky, and the city that laid beyond the rubble of the gym, and turned to give Mewtwo a hopeful smile.

_ “It’s over. Thank you.” _

And with that, they disappeared.


	21. Epilogue

 

“Alright, you sure you want _me_ of all people to do this?”

Char snipped the scissors for emphasis. Nico rolled his eyes, belying the inherent embarrassment of his situation. Sitting on the closed toilet in a cramped bathroom, he was now at her mercy.

_“It’s customary for the shearing of one’s pride to be enacted by the person whom they have wronged.”_

“Fancy way to say ‘symbolic dick chopping’, but I’ll take it.” Char took one side of his tattered, ruined whiskers, and started to trim them as short as she could.

_“Ugh. For the last time: The whiskers aren’t a phallic symbol.”_

Nico closed his eyes tightly as she worked, only opening them when she withdrew and gave him an assuring “Alright.” He turned to look at his bare muzzle in the bathroom mirror. The old, pinkish bald spots from a lifetime of trichotillomania were framed by red, raw skin from places that were more recently plucked.

_“Well, I guess these aren’t growing back right any time soon.”_

“Yeah, but is that like… _okay?_ You don’t seem any more enthused since the last time we had to do this.”

 _“The damage is done,”_ Nico ran his fingers over his trimmed mouth curiously. _“Perhaps I will grow them back out when I feel I’m ready. That’s not the most pressing issue on my plate.”_

The Alakazam rose to his feet, towering over the woman and having to slouch from the low ceiling. He gave Char a sad smile.

_“Charlotte, you are very dear to me. If I couldn’t make you happy, then, well. I’m glad you found someone who can.”_

Char just rolled her eyes, a blush starting to color in her cheeks. “Alright, alright, no need to grovel in front of me.”

She pulled him into a hug, burying her face into his dark mane. It took Nico a moment of stunned silence to react, and put his arms over her shoulders.

“You’re still my friend, dipshit,” Char mumbled. “We fucked up things between us, yeah, but I’m not going to stop _liking_ you. Shit, all I’ve been thinkin’ about while squatting with Sabbie was how I just up n’ left you like an _asshole_.”

Nico swallowed the emotion that threatened to bubble up within him, and nuzzled her curly head. _“I suppose even our mistakes contribute, ultimately, to fate.”_

“There are no coincidences, I guess.” Char sounded solemn when she disengaged from the embrace, and glanced up at the Alakazam with a sad but hopeful look. “So, what’re you going to do, eh? Do you even _have_ friends besides me?”

 _“Maybe,”_ Nico said rather defensively, _“I have someone in mind. I don’t want to linger any longer than I have to.”_

“Yeah, well, you know this place is called a safehouse for a reason, too.”

Char opened the door to the hallway of the basement. She wasn’t terribly pleased to have to take two steps back in her plan; but for the moment, the safety and security of the abandoned center was something they all needed. Sabrina, bless her, picked the shaken and exhausted group up from Viridian, and gave Char an earful the entire ride back. A small price to pay. 

Sabrina was waiting for them just outside the door, giving Nico’s muzzle a surprised gawk.

“Wow, the whole way, huh?”

Nico looked away from her, his ears flicking back with embarrassment. _“I know, I know. The mark of complete and utter social pariahism for any Kazam. Don’t make a big deal out of it, or anything.”_

“Had to do _something_ because you started pluckin’ again.” Char sternly noted, and brushed past them to join the others in the rec room.

Mewtwo had fresh bandages over his stitches, clean clothes, and an ice pack against his head as he stretched out on the couch. He gave Char a weak smile, and accepted a kiss. His sweet expression soured a bit as Nico ducked into the room.

_“Ugh, we really do look related, don’t we… ew.”_

The Alakazam shot him a glare. _“Count your blessings, pipsqueak; you sharing my handsome face is probably the only reason you got the girl in the first place.”_

“Oh my god,” Char groaned, “you know what, I changed my mind. Nico, maybe you should leave.”

 _“I was_ **_going_ ** _to.”_ Nico picked up the pace to get away from Mewtwo, only to hesitate, and glanced uncertainly at the other clone. His hands fidgeted, already using strands of his mane as a replacement for his whiskers in his nervous habit.

 _“Thank you for uh, saving the world, I guess.”_ He swallowed. _“And Char, and... me. Especially me. You had every right to just up and leave me there.”_

Mewtwo sat up with a grunt of discomfort, and looked the other clone over before giving him an acknowledging nod. _“Well, Sons of Bucephalus look out for each other, right?”_

_“Actually, none of us have a history of getting along, really.”_

Mewtwo snickered at that. _“Wow, so you being a bastard is genetic, huh?”_

The Alakazam rolled his eyes petulantly. _“If it is, keep in mind you have some of that in your genes, too.”_

The other clone broke into an amused giggle, and held out a hand that Nico awkwardly stared at before shaking. _“You’re a dick, but I can see why Char likes you.”_

_“And you are a homewrecking little shit, but I won’t hold that against you.”_

Nico took a centering breath, closing his eyes as he tried to concentrate on his new destination, preparing to teleport. _“Alright, farewell.”_

 

Outside of the safehouse, it was starting to lightly snow. Miles away to the east, it was still raining. Nico grumbled miserably under the ice-cold drizzle, and quickly stepped up to the door of the cottage.

After a few increasingly insistent knocks, the door opened a crack, and the familiar face of an old man peered through.

“… Nicodemus?”

 _“Evening, doctor,”_ Nico tried to stay cordial for him, leaning as far into the meager bit of awning over the doorway as he could for shelter. _“Uh, this is sudden, but… I need a place to stay. Would you have me?”_

Surprise dawned on Fuji’s face, eyes darting over the Alakazam frantically as Nico could sense the worried thoughts of the man. He wasn’t concerned for himself, or the inherent danger that came with interacting with a Team Rocket member. He worried about the creation he regretted having to abandon.

“I- well, of course! Please, come in, come in; it's _freezing_ out there, for Arceus’ sake!”

Fuji stepped back to allow the Alakazam through the threshold, and Nicodemus gratefully stepped into the comfort of a warm and dry home.

* * *

Mewtwo, while he was sad to not be halfway to Hoenn, could at least appreciate the room he had become accustomed to, and the bed he shared with Char. Already under the covers, he watched the trainer shed her clothes; his eyes running up and down the rough and beautiful woman he was thankful to have next to him every night. Hopefully, forever. Char caught him staring, blushed, and made a show of making removing her prosthesis look like a gaudy pin up piece.

“Well, I guess we’re here for a bit. When it snows here, it doesn’t fuckin stop ‘til Feburary.” Char grumbled, carefully crawling to the space next to her lover.

Mewtwo held onto her lovingly. _“I don’t mind. As long as we’re all safe, and as long as I’m here with you.”_

“Damn straight.” Char looked tiredly into his eyes, a smile creeping up on her lips.

_“Charlotte?”_

“Hmm?”

Mewtwo gave her a look that twisted a knife in her heart. _“Are we still going to have to keep running?”_

Char closed her eyes and sighed, her expression turning conflicted. “I dunno, hon. We’ll just have to see what goes after us next.”

With no words to counter that, Mewtwo opted to simply kiss her brow instead, and turn off the light for the night.

 

Mewtwo had only been asleep for a few hours when he jolted in his slumber, hard enough to wake himself. Confused, he sat up in bed to try and hone in on what he was feeling. Or who.

He mourned having to get out of the warm bed, but there was no shaking this feeling. Floating silently through the basement, he grabbed a throw blanket from the couch for warmth, and headed outside.

The snow had petered down to a few errant flurries in the dark of the night, the clouds beginning to part and let the moon illuminate a world coated in white. From the roof, Mewtwo could see the stillness of a fresh, undisturbed snowfall, and the other figure that joined him.

The Adversary, completely uncovered but seemingly unaffected by the cold, stared up in quiet wonder at the moon. Delight dawned on Mewtwo’s face.

_“I thought I’d never see you again.”_

The other clone acknowledged him with an unreadable look.

_“I don’t know what to do now.”_

_“Well, uh,”_ Mewtwo felt the pang of a very specific sympathy. It was a clone thing. _“I guess nothing is stopping you from doing anything you want.”_

The Adversary squinted, tilting their head in confusion. _“I don’t know what that means?”_

With a sigh, Mewtwo approached them. At the far end of the roof, he hovered cross-legged just over the snow, and gestured to his counterpart to join him. _“Well… I can’t tell you what free will means to you. You’re going to have to figure that out yourself.”_

 _“I just didn’t think I’d get this far,”_ the Adversary stared distantly over a countryside blanketed in snow. _“I don’t know what it’s like to simply live. I didn’t have a life, until now.”_

 _“I know, it’s okay.”_ Mewtwo took their hand and gave it a supportive squeeze. _“You know, you can go downstairs with me; this place is meant for people like you-”_

They gave him a suddenly fearful stare. _“No. No humans.”_

 _“O-okay, no humans!”_ Mewtwo quickly agreed. He squeezed the hand of the strange clone, and seemed to draw their attention to it.

Curiously, they inspected the differences in their anatomy. Their hand had two fingers and a thumb, blunted with scars on the ends that gnarled a few of their fingerpads. Mewtwo’s hand had three fingers, and his dark claws were trimmed neatly, courtesy of Char. Sorrow shone in the Adversary’s eyes, and Mewtwo could feel their pain keenly.

_“I spent so long with him. I knew nothing else. I had no one else. He told me that he was the only one in the world who would accept me.”_

_“I… I’m lucky, I guess,”_ Mewtwo admitted, _“I found someone who loves me. She did everything she could to get me away from him. Now I have friends, and a family, and… I guess I have a life now.”_

His heart broke as he watched tears well in the Adversary’s eyes. They didn’t look at him accusingly, or enviously. They simply seemed to plead for answers he didn’t have. _“Why didn’t I have any of that?”_

 _“I-”_ Mewtwo’s breath hitched, grief starting to form a knot in his throat. He quickly pulled the other clone into his arms. _“I don’t know… I’m sorry. I’m sorry.”_

Together, they could both cry quietly against each other, tangling limbs and wrapping the blanket around themselves. Purring erupted from both of their throats, and filled the silence in the air. Mewtwo felt the bodyheat of someone familiar to a fault; maybe not family, maybe not a doppelganger, or an alternate version of himself, but someone _connected_ to him. Connected by whatever god they were both supposed to emulate.

 _“It’s okay,”_ the smaller clone soothed, and rubbed the bony and thin-skinned back of his counterpart, careful not to upset the array of broken inhibitor devices. _“It’s okay, it’s over, you’re_ **_here_ ** _now. Everything you went through led up to this. Time_ **_rewound_ ** _just to for us to meet. You have me now, you’re not alone anymore.”_

 _“I have you,”_ The Adversary hiccuped, staining the blanket with tears. _“But who are you?”_

Mewtwo chuckled, and sniffled. _“Well, I’m uh, I’m Mewtwo, but my friends call me Two, and I like that.”_

Sniffling and wiping their eyes, the other clone pulled away to give him a disgruntled look. _“That’s my name. I despise it, so you can have it.”_

_“Um, thanks?”_

Settling down a bit, Mewtwo could give them a tearstained, earnest smile. _“Well, I can’t just keep calling you ‘the Adversary’, that just sounds… rude.”_

The other clone sighed, their eyes downcast. _“I don’t have a name.”_

_“Well, you can figure that out, now. You have the freedom to do so.”_

That brought the light back into the Adversary’s expression. They looked surprised, as if the sheer weight of that fact was just starting to hit them.

_“You’re right, I can do that now.”_

Mewtwo nodded encouragingly. _“Yes! You don’t have to be ‘Mewtwo’ if you don’t want to be. You can be someone else.”_

Uneasily, the Adversary got to their feet, looking almost spooked at the revelation. _“I can have a name. I can… I can be a person now. Any person.”_

_“Well, um, within reason, I guess. Unless you have some Ditto genes tucked away in there.”_

_“I’m going… to have material possessions, now.”_ The Adversary was in awe of the power suddenly at their disposal. _“I’m going to have a room of my own and I am going to have friends. I am going to wear clothes and HE CAN’T STOP ME!”_

A ripple of energy buffeted Mewtwo, and swept the snow away in a circle around them. He laughed rather nervously.

_“Yeah! That’s the spirit!”_

The other clone broke into a broad and genuine grin, showing gaps where their fangs used to be. The brightness in their smile, and the happiness in their eyes made Mewtwo’s heart soar. There was definitely _someone_ in there, and no amount of misery and abuse Giovanni could inflict upon them could break that spirit.

_“I have… so much to do now, but I don’t even know where to begin. Where do I go from here?”_

Mewtwo considered their question for a moment. His eyes lit up when an idea struck him; it was obvious, really.

_“There’s a free pokemon colony in Indigo Falls, far west of here. Not too far from where you were released, actually. They take in rescued pokemon all the time! There won’t be any humans there, and the League isn’t allowed to intervene with anything!”_

The Adversary’s eyes widened, and their long, naked tail swished with a rush of hopeful excitement. _“That sounds… perfect.”_

They looked around restlessly, looking lost for a moment, overwhelmed by the daunting concept of life and living. Mewtwo took them by the shoulders, and looked into their eyes.

_“Hey. When you reach someplace safe, you might collapse, and feel like everything’s going to fall apart again. That’s okay. All this, it’s behind you now, so don’t let it keep clinging to you.”_

The Adversary blinked owlishly at him, and nodded in understanding.

Having to hover a few feet in order to do it, Mewtwo pressed his brow against theirs. An overwhelming amount of excitement, confusion and love passed between them on both sides; everything was new and everything was strange, but not as strange as the two of them. Mewtwo felt the echoes of misery still fresh in his counterpart’s mind, along with the chaos of their own troubled thoughts and their uncertain grasp on themself.

They were hurt, and they would remain in pain for some time, but they clung to something hopeful, deep within them. Soft, small hands and a tiny, human smile. The breeze fluttering through light-colored hair, and the faint and promised whisper that life was wonderful. Mewtwo felt tears well up in him again.

_“I don’t know who you are, but maybe when we meet again, you can introduce me to yourself.”_

 

His breath still rattling, both from emotion and the cold, Mewtwo returned to the basement without the blanket. Considering how freezing he was, he faintly regretted giving it to the clone that seemed to not feel the cold at all.

He was grateful to crawl back into the warmth of his bed, even if Char instantly flinched away from his cold hands, flailing to roll away from him.

“ _Fuck_ , dude! Have you been outside!?”

 _“Yeah, sorry,”_ Mewtwo couldn’t help but chuckle. He scooted forward to drape his chilled body on her whether she liked it or not. _“You’re just so warm…”_

Char groaned in protest, and her lover shook with quiet laughter. She kissed his cheek, and found it tearstained.

“You alright, baby? I gettin’ a weird read on our bond, here.”

 _“I’m fine, I just,”_ Mewtwo paused to reposition himself, propping himself up on his elbows to look down at Char’s concerned face. _“I’m just so lucky to have you, you know? And I know things will never be perfect, but I’m glad I got through the worst of it with you.”_

“Oh, honey,” Char put a scarred hand to his face, a thumb tracing the edge of his cheekbone adoringly. “I can only hope that will be the worst of it.”

Mewtwo knew she was holding back her real opinions on his words considerably. He just nodded in agreement, kissed her, and laid back down at her side. Even if she had her doubts about ever having peace in her life, he hoped to prove her wrong. Someday.

 

* * *

 

Miles and miles away, but only a few blocks from the wreckage of Viridian Gym, Cyrus laid in his hospital bed and stared up at the ceiling. He was lucky to be alive, after all was said and done. They didn’t find Giovanni’s body, so he feared… the worst.

That thing was out there, _loose_ , and there would be no force on earth powerful enough to stop it. Cyrus tried to close his eyes, but all he could see was the living darkness, and the countless red eyes that stared him down judgmentally. Sometimes he could still smell the faintest waft of rotting flesh; something that he could never quite pinpoint the source of. He was only in the Distortion World for maybe a minute, but somehow, that was enough to pass through a millennia. He heard the Void of the Lighteater was a place outside of time and space. He just didn't realize he’d experience it.

A pox on that damn Aether Foundation, and their promise of wormhole technology. They told him and Giovanni that they would be able to go to other universes, not to the fucking void only to be spat back out again. Then again, their design wasn’t exactly final.

The haunted and harrowed man closed his eyes and attempted an uneasy sleep. It didn’t last long.

The door to his room opened for two sharply dressed men; shady-looking agents in black suits and sunglasses. They silently entered, and stood, and let the third agent take their place between them.

Ducking under the door frame, a very tall example of an Alakazam made his presence known, and Cyrus was filled with an instinctual dread. It was clearly not Giovanni’s beast; this one was markedly piebald, dressed in a suit identical to the humans on either side of him.

The psychic’s face was almost entirely white, and that coupled with partial heterochromia spotting his pale eyes with brown made for a strange and disconcerting appearance. The Alakazam bowed his head minutely, and filled Cyrus’ head with a telepathy that felt like silk running down his spine.

_“Ah, Cyrus Akagi. Our apologies for the late visit; your friend has given us quite a mess to clean up, as you know.”_

Cyrus just stared in muted horror at the beast, who wore clothes and addressed him as an equal like some sort of _person_. The Alakazam seemed to read his distrustful and reviled thoughts, and smiled at him with his odd-colored eyes.

_“I’m sure you have many questions about our involvement. I am Methuselah; head of the  Bureau of Preternatural Defense, Research, and Containment; under the Interregional United League.”_

Cyrus’s eyes were wide and bloodshot. “The League lets a fucking _Kazam_ run things over there?”

Methuselah quietly snorted in the faintest bit of a chuckle. _“Times are changing, Cyrus. With or without you. Now, shall we get down to business?”_

He didn’t even need to signal to one of the other suits for them to reach for a chair. The two subordinates stood while Methuselah took a seat.

_“I understand that a very powerful, Legendary-grade anomaly was responsible for the destruction of Viridian Gym. I’m sure you’re quite acquainted with it; this ‘Mewtwo’, is it?”_

“No,” Cyrus rasped, “it was the Adversary; the creature we made to subdue the gods. The ultimate expression of Dominion.”

The Alakazam’s asymmetrically-colored ears flicked upon hearing the word ‘Dominion’.

_“I see. Mr. Akagi, you do realize that you will be under arrest for your acts of terror by aligning yourself with the Dominion of Humanity, yes?”_

Cyrus looked back up at the stucco on the ceiling, likening it in vague texture to the static darkness of the void.

“I am ready to answer for my crimes against the world.”

Methuselah nodded. _“I’m glad we have an understanding. Now, on the topic of the information we need…”_

“I will answer any question you give me. I have nothing left but my sins.”

The Alakazam’s eyes narrowed with amusement again. _“Oh, we have no need to ask questions to obtain the information we desire.”_

Cyrus stomach dropped as he watched the giant of a Kazam stand to his full height, and calmly walk over to his bedside. “Ah, _shit.”_

He couldn’t fight it, so he just resigned himself to the grip on his head, and the sudden darkness that enveloped him.

Methuselah closed his eyes, drinking deeply of the memories stored in the man’s mind. The other suits watched in rigid silence until he withdrew his hand, and hummed thoughtfully at what he found.

_“May your kingdom ever persist.”_

Cyrus was not conscious to watch the League agents leave without a single word between them. He welcomed the memories of the void. He embraced the living darkness, and dreamed fitfully of the corpse of a rotting whale.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> i would like to thank everyone who has stuck with this story, my friends, and my beta reader for supporting me through this wholly indulgent passion project. i hope you enjoyed reading this as much as i enjoyed writing it.
> 
> peace


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